Chapter 16 #2
“Enough!” Irving slams a palm down on the back of Jerdan’s chair. Smarting from the pain, he jerks his hand back and shakes it. “This isn’t the local pub. It’s a serious arrest. If you two can’t take your job seriously, I’ll report you and find officers who can discharge their duty.”
I tsk. “Now, Irving, this is the fastest and surest way to a heart attack. Take a moment to breathe.”
He points a freckled finger at me. “I’ll record this as you resisting, and it will prejudice your case.”
I wave a dismissive hand. “Do what you will, Irving. This whisky is too good to enjoy under duress.”
Balling his fists at his sides, Irving blows his top. “I insist you stop this hobnobbing at once! Arrest this man, or I’ll call the station for officers who will answer orders.”
In a fit of rage he yanks the handcuffs off Maver’s belt, but his zeal makes him imprecise, and he ends up snapping his right hand into a cuff. Rising from my seat, I grab the manacles and slip my left hand through, snicking the cuff shut.
With a smirk, I use my right hand to toss back the remainder of my drink. “Irving is champing at the bit. Finish your drinks at your own leisure, gentlemen.”
“Leith, Jason will meet you at the station,” Galiene informs me, pushing to her feet.
I tug Irving close, making him stumble into me. “On the way, I expect you to tell me on what basis you’re arresting me, Irving.”
“Unlock me at once, officers!” he barks in a stentorian tone.
“That’s my line, Irving,” I drawl.
* * *
I haven’t been locked up half an hour when Jason pays me a visit. All lean muscle with angular features and a buzz cut, he wears a navy sports jacket, crisp white button-down, and tawny chinos.
“What a bore, Jason,” I greet as the guard ushers me out to the visitor’s area.
“Trouble follows you these days.” He cracks a grim smile, taking a seat opposite me. “I ran through the materials that convinced the COPFS to bring charges against you.”
I lean back, draping an arm over my seat back. “Go ahead.”
“They found a neighbor who testified she saw bruises on your arms and thighs. Unfortunately she has a party photo which, when blown up, substantiates her account.” Propping his elbows on the armrests, he steeples his fingers.
“Another neighbor claims Annand exposed himself to her eight-year-old son.”
I heave an irritated sigh. “So I had motive.”
“Irving is playing up the fact that you’d worked in shipyards in Nova Scotia and had more than usual strength for your age group.
He claims you could easily have picked up the clock and brought it down over Annand’s head.
” Jason purses his lips. “Irving’s also leaning into the fact that you ran away the afternoon of the murder, you had no alibi, and nothing was stolen in the so-called robbery. ”
As far as criminal defense goes, Jason rivals me for talent. He’s the best money can buy, so naturally Diran hired him for my case.
“We just need to sow enough doubt in the jury,” Jason points out. “Meanwhile, if the bail hearing doesn’t happen by tomorrow midday, I’ll push for the police to release you on an undertaking. At the latest, you should be out of here by the afternoon.”
“With all the favors this division owes the Syndicate, they’d do well to remember which side their bread is buttered on.” I catch the eye of the admitting officer, who looks down guiltily.
Jason pockets his small notepad. “Anything else I can do for you?”
“Check on my wife.” I think of Stennis leering at her and pushing into her personal space. “Make sure she made it home safely.”
“Will do.” Leaning in, he rests his forearms on his knees and lowers his voice. “Something has emboldened Irving and his team. Look at you, Leith. You’re not just Syndicate, you’re royalty within the Crew.”
I twist my lips wryly. “I have one word for you. Darian.”
Shock strikes Jason dumb.
“He thinks I’m after the position of boss,” I explain. “He invited Irving to my wedding. Now I think he’s made some kind of reassurance to Irving that he and his men will be safe if they go after me.”
“That’s hitting below the belt,” Jason observes.
“Dar doesn’t play fair.” I work my jaw back and forth. “So there we are. I’ll have to wait till I’m out to confirm my suspicions and strike back.”
Jason pushes to his feet and claps a hand on my shoulder. “Meanwhile, hang in there.”
I offer him a resigned smile. “I’ve got plenty to occupy my mind.”
Since we have only fifteen days till the Lowing trial, I need to brainstorm further solutions. I was supposed to meet with Diran and Declan this evening to give them their gifts and go over the Lowing case.
Now I also need to think of ways to avenge myself on Darian. On top of all this, there’s the wee matter of clearing myself of murder.
I almost look forward to all the time I’ll have in my cell.
Still, my mind will only be at ease once Jason confirms Iona is all right.
* * *
An hour after leaving me, Jason calls to reassure me Iona made it home safely and is fine, physically and psychologically.
The night is long, and I don’t even try to sleep.
I come up with one idea after another for the Lowing case, only to find major flaws with them all.
By the morning, the best solution I’ve got is for the Syndicate to acquire something the COPFS wants even more than our heads on a platter—something that induces them to hand over the Lowing list with a smile.
But it would have to be a commodity that doesn’t cost the Crew too much and that we can withhold until our demands are met.
At 9 in the morning, Jason calls to say the bail hearing is set for 11:30.
Two hours later, the guards come and walk me to the Sheriff Court.
At the hearing, Irving represents the Procurator Fiscal and outlines why I shouldn’t be let loose.
He points out how casually I treated my arrest, paints a picture of Annand’s gruesome murder at my hands, and highlights the criminal organization I work for.
“Every minute he’s at large represents a danger to the public,” Irving expostulates. “The Syndicate are known for intimidating witnesses. Cargill will likely do the same. This very case hangs in the balance, considering all the fear tactics their mob use to override the law.”
For his part, Jason makes an eloquent argument that I’ve been at large for twenty years without posing any danger to the public.
Jason wisely distances me from the Crew, treating me as an individual and an upstanding citizen.
He adduces all the successful defenses I’ve made and claims I treated my arrest with levity because I was so taken aback that I could be charged with murder.
After considering the evidence and arguments, the sheriff grants me bail and assigns a trial date of August 1st. The early date puts the burden of finding new proof of guilt on Irving, who can already rely on the evidence from the closed case of twenty years ago.
Smirking across at a scunnered Irving as the guards release my wrists, I thank Jason and turn to go retrieve my personal items.
Declan and Diran are waiting in Declan’s car outside the courthouse. From the pointed looks Declan gives me in the rear view while driving me home, I can tell he doesn’t want me to mention his brother. Nor would I, since doing so would amount to snitching.
Entering the house, I lead them into a room with a full bar. “Whisky?”
“Aye.” Diran parks himself on a stool. “Rest assured, Leith, those who let this happen will be punished.”
I uncork a Bruichladdich and pour glasses, sliding them across to father and son. “It was bound to happen anyway. Irving has it in for me.”
We clink glasses, murmuring, “Slàinte mhath.”
Reaching under the bar, I produce an envelope with Declan’s name on it and a box holding Diran’s gift. “I got you a couple of gifts in London.”
Declan side-eyes me, lips twitching. “Was this your wife’s idea?”
“You’ve got my number.” I take a sip of whisky, relishing its peaty burn.
“I knew I liked Iona.” Diran undoes the ribbon and opens his box, releasing a deep laugh. “Haha, this is something else.”
He takes out the pig, barrel, and sign, setting them on the counter. I show him how to attach the pig to the barrel and the sign above both.
“Makes me think of our first case together.” Diran’s eyes gleam with delight. “Remember?”
I lean my forearms on the bar. “How could I forget?”
Declan tears open his envelope and slides out the fancy invitation to twelve classes—online or in person—at Leiths School of Food and Wine. A slow, pleased smile spreads across his face. “You read my mind. It’s high time I knew how to cook.”
I tip my head toward the paper. “If online isn’t your jam, they can schedule the in-person classes around your schedule.”
Declan trades tickled glances with Diran. “I’ll be taking the jet more often.”
Diran runs his thumb over the words on the sign. “I’ll put this in Banyan. It’ll be a conversation starter.”
My phone buzzes with a text, and I pull it from my pocket.
Galiene: Call me. We have a situation.
“If you’ll excuse me.” I leave Declan and Diran at the bar and step through the sliding doors onto the terrace, calling Galiene. “What’s gaun on?”
She blows out a tense breath. “That press, Horizons, that printed your memoir has published a brief article in The Times. You’d better take a look.”
Putting her on speaker, I pull up The Times and do a search for Horizons, bringing up the piece she’s referring to.
Authored by Stennis Gilzean, it’s titled The Real Key to the Memoir of Leith Cargill.
My stomach dips as I skim the article, which reveals why I really went into contract law, Kenzie’s identity as Aaron, the full details of the case in which I first defended the twins, and my secret plan to jockey for the position of boss alongside Darian and Declan.
Bile rises in my throat, and I shake with rage.
“Fuck,” I growl. “How the fuck did he get this information?”
“I have no idea,” Galiene says in a hoarse voice. “But we’ve got to act fast, or it could have serious consequences.”
Already has, no doubt. My gut churns at the thought of all the people this article will piss off.
Diran and Callum will be furious to have Macklin Whyte’s death brought into the public eye again.
Darian will return to the warpath with a vengeance once he thinks I really am after his father and uncle’s position.
I’m infuriated at the exposing of Aaron and of my private reasons for going into contract law.
Sudden realization slams into me like a ten-ton lorry, knocking the wind out of me.
Iona. She met with Stennis yesterday. She knew all this information because I was stupid enough to confide in her when my guard was down.
But why? Why would she throw me and the rest of us under the bus?
The first reason that springs to mind is she’s still angry at Aaron, mistakenly thinking he assaulted Grizel.
So she not only exposed his identity but got back at him by hurting me.
The second motive is even darker. She likely wanted revenge on me for forcing her to marry me.
What better opportunity than when I’m in jail and can’t stop the press?
Convinced both motives are at play, I crack my knuckles.
There’s no place remote enough for her to hide from my wrath. I will destroy Iona.
“Thank you, Galiene,” I grind out. “I’ll let you know next steps in a while.”
Ringing off, I inhale a deep breath and stalk back inside.
“Bad news?” Diran’s brow bunches.
“’Fraid so.” I give them a tight smile. “I need to deal with it right away.”
“Need help?” Diran drains his whisky.
“I’ll handle it.”
“We’ll clear out.” Declan slides off his stool. “Thanks for the gifts.”
When I’ve seen them out, I open the tracking app on my phone. She’s by the pool.
How convenient. Drowning is a seamless way to go, and it won’t add to my rap sheet.
On my way to the pool, I berate myself for trusting her with my secrets. The whole time she was storing them up to spill to her colleague.
As for her own secrets, she’ll take those to the grave.
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