The Distant Echo. Val McDermid

Do you suppose anybody seeing that wouldn’t think we’d done it?’

      ‘It’s not the most flattering photo I’ve ever had taken,’ Alex said.

      ‘It’s all right for you. You’re right at the back. You can hardly make out your face. And Ziggy’s turning away. It’s me and Weird that have got it full frontal,’ Mondo complained. ‘Let’s see what the others have got.’

      A similar picture appeared in the Scotsman, the Glasgow Herald and the Courier, but thankfully on inside pages. The murder made it to the front of all of them, however, with the exception of the Courier. Nothing as insignificant as a murder could shift the fatstock prices and small ads from their front page.

      They sat sipping their frothy coffees, silently poring over the column inches. ‘I suppose it could be worse,’ Alex said.

      Weird made an incredulous face. ‘Worse how, exactly?’

      ‘They spelled our names right. Even Ziggy’s.’

      ‘Big fat hairy deal. OK, I’ll grant you they’ve stopped short of calling us suspects. But that’s about all you can say in our favour. This makes us look bad, Alex. You know it does.’

      ‘Everybody we know is going to have seen this,’ Mondo said. ‘Everybody is going to be into our ribs about it. If this is my fifteen minutes of fame, you can stuff it.’

      ‘Everybody was going to know anyway,’ Alex pointed out. ‘You know what this town’s like. Village mentality. People have got nothing else to keep them occupied but gossiping about their neighbours. It doesn’t take the papers to spread the news around here. The plus side is that half the university lives in England, so they’re not going to know anything about this. And by the time we get back after the New Year, it’ll be history.’

      ‘You think so?’ Weird folded the Scotsman shut with an air of finality. ‘I tell you something. We better be praying that Maclennan finds out who did this and puts him away.’

      ‘Why?’ Mondo asked.

      ‘Because if he doesn’t, we’re going to go through the rest of our lives as the guys that got away with murder.’

      Mondo looked like a man who’s just been told he has terminal cancer. ‘You’re kidding?’

      ‘I’ve never been more serious in my puff,’ Weird said. ‘If they don’t arrest anybody for Rosie’s murder, all anybody’s going to remember is that we’re the four who spent the night at the police station. It’s obvious, man. We’re going to get a not proven verdict without a trial. “We all know they did it, the police just couldn’t prove it,”’ he added, mimicking a woman’s voice. ‘Face it, Mondo, you’re never going to get laid again.’ He grinned wickedly, knowing he’d hit his friend where it hurt most.

      ‘Fuck off, Weird. At least I’ll have memories,’ Mondo snapped.

      Before any of them could say more, they were interrupted by a new arrival. Ziggy came in, shaking rain from his hair. ‘I thought I’d find you here,’ he said.

      ‘Ziggy, Weird says …’ Mondo began.

      ‘Never mind that. Maclennan’s here. He wants to talk to the four of us again.’

      Alex raised his eyebrows. ‘He wants to drag us back to St Andrews?’

      Ziggy shook his head. ‘No. He’s here in Kirkcaldy. He wants us to come to the police station.’

      ‘Fuck,’ Weird said. ‘My old man’s going to go mental. I’m supposed to be grounded. He’ll think I’m giving him the V-sign. It’s not like I can tell him I’ve been at the cop shop.’

      ‘Thank my dad for the fact that we’re not having to go to St Andrews,’ Ziggy said. ‘He went spare when Maclennan turned up at the house. Read him the riot act, accusing him of treating us like criminals when we’d done everything we could to save Rosie. I thought at one point he was going to start battering him with the Record.’ He smiled. ‘I tell you, I was proud of him.’

      ‘Good for him,’ Alex said. ‘So where’s Maclennan?’

      ‘Outside in his car. With my dad’s car parked right behind him.’ Ziggy’s shoulders started shaking with laughter. ‘I don’t think Maclennan’s ever come up against anything quite like my old man.’

      ‘So we’ve got to go to the police station now?’ Alex asked.

      Ziggy nodded. ‘Maclennan’s waiting for us. He said my dad could drive us there, but he’s not in the mood for hanging around.’

      Ten minutes later, Ziggy was sitting alone in an interview room. When they’d arrived at the police station, Alex, Weird and Mondo had been taken to a separate interview room under the watchful eye of a uniformed constable. An anxious Karel Malkiewicz had been unceremoniously abandoned in the reception area, told abruptly by Maclennan that he’d have to wait there. And Ziggy had been shepherded off, sandwiched between Maclennan and Burnside, who had promptly left him to kick his heels.

      They knew what they were doing, he thought ruefully. Leaving him isolated like this was a sure-fire recipe for unsettling him. And it was working. Although he showed no outward signs of tension, Ziggy felt taut as a piano wire, vibrating with apprehension. The longest five minutes of his life ended when the two detectives returned and sat down opposite him.

      Maclennan’s eyes burned into his, his narrow face tight with some suppressed emotion. ‘Lying to the police is a serious business,’ he said without preamble, his voice clipped and cold. ‘Not only is it an offence, it also makes us wonder what exactly it is you’ve got to hide. You’ve had a night to sleep on things. Would you care to revise your earlier statement?’

      A chilly shock of fear spasmed in Ziggy’s chest. They knew something. That was clear. But how much? He said nothing, waiting for Maclennan to make his move.

      Maclennan opened his file and pulled out the fingerprint sheet that Ziggy had signed the previous day. ‘These are your fingerprints?’

      Ziggy nodded. He knew what was coming now.

      ‘Can you explain how they came to be on the steering wheel and gearstick of a Land Rover registered to a Mr Henry Cavendish, found abandoned this morning in the parking area of an industrial unit on Largo Road, St Andrews?’

      Ziggy closed his eyes momentarily. ‘Yes, I can.’ He paused, trying to gather his thoughts. He’d rehearsed this conversation in bed that morning, but all his lines had deserted him now he was faced with this unnerving reality.

      ‘I’m waiting, Mr Malkiewicz,’ Maclennan said.

      ‘The Land Rover belongs to one of the other students who shares the house with us. We borrowed it last night to get to the party.’

      ‘You borrowed it? You mean, Mr Cavendish gave you his permission to ride around in his Land Rover?’ Maclennan pounced, refusing to give Ziggy the chance to get into his stride.

      ‘Not exactly, no.’ Ziggy looked off to one side, unable to meet Maclennan’s stare. ‘Look, I know we shouldn’t have taken it, but it was no big deal.’ As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Ziggy knew they were a mistake.

      ‘It’s a criminal offence. Which I’m sure you knew. So, you stole the Land Rover and took it to the party. That doesn’t explain how it ended up where it did.’

      Ziggy’s breath was fluttering in his chest like a trapped moth. ‘I moved it there for safety. We were drinking and I didn’t want any of us to be tempted to drive it when we were drunk.’

      ‘When exactly did you move it?’

      ‘I don’t know exactly. Probably some time between one and two in the morning.’

      ‘You must have had quite a lot to drink by then yourself.’ Maclennan was on a roll now, his shoulders hunched forward as he leaned into the