‘Can I draw your attention to the date of the exchange of contracts, Mr Keirns?’
He rustled the paper in exaggerated fashion. ‘It says . . . 2014.’
‘But Sandy Thompson only passed away last week.’
‘That’s right.’
‘How did you acquire the deeds to his property as far back as 2014 then?’
Keirns pushed away the paper. ‘What has this got to do with anything?’
DS McCormack addressed Keirns. ‘We’re merely trying to establish the facts surrounding ownership of the crime scene. This is standard practice, sir.’
He inflated his cheeks and ran his small fingers through his hair. ‘Look, I . . . I . . . Sandy was like a father to me and, well, when he started to get on, he had nobody. I didn’t pressurise him to give me the farm in any way if that’s what you’re getting at.’
‘No one is suggesting anything of the sort,’ said McCormack.
‘The farm hadn’t been paying its way for a long time. Jesus, Sandy was winding the place down when I started labouring there in the eighties.’
‘Winding down?’ said Valentine.
‘The farm had been around for generations, had been big, much bigger, but land got sold along the way – not just by Sandy but before him. It was all tied up with the Columba House folk too. That’s what kept it going longer than it should have been a working farm.’
‘Columba House has been closed for years.’
‘Yeah, it was 1989 or something they shut up.’
‘There was an investigation at the time.’
‘I was long gone from the place by then.’
Valentine removed the piece of paper and quietly inserted it back in the blue folder it had came from.
‘You were one of the Columba House boys?’
‘Yes. I was, for my sins.’
‘What sins were they?’
‘It’s a figure of speech.’
‘What dates were you there, Mr Keirns?’
‘I don’t know. I was a kid; late seventies to eighty-two I think I started at the farm. They’ll have records you can check. I’ve nothing to hide.’
‘From 1982 to 2014 is a long time to work a farm that was, as you say, winding down.’
‘We got by. I was mainly Sandy’s carer by the time Columba closed. Look, is this questioning going anywhere? I’m getting a bit tired of it now.’
‘We’re nearly finished. I just wanted to ask you about this unusual deal you struck with Blairgowan Construction. How did it come about?’
‘They wanted the land, they approached me.’
‘What did they want the land for?’
‘Posh houses and a new road – can’t you ask them?’
‘And they were happy to wait till Sandy passed away?’
‘They didn’t want the property to go somewhere else, I guess. It suited us, it suited Sandy – he got to stay there right to the end. Is that everything?’
‘Just one more, Mr Keirns: where are you living now?’
‘Ayr. I live in Ayr.’
Valentine stood up and collected his folder. ‘Give your address to DS McCormack please. We’ll be in touch, so I’d appreciate it if you let us know your movements, especially if you intend to leave town.’
8
DI Valentine’s office looked on to the main incident room. It was little more than a glassed-off corner of the bigger area, and he often referred to it as the conservatory in mocking terms. He did, however, have the consolation of the large windows that overlooked the car park and the broader sweep of King Street towards the roundabout. The office’s positioning also afforded the DI the ability to keep track of his team, who seemed to be returning to the station in greater numbers now.
As Valentine stood in the corner of the window he eyed the goings of the car park. DS McCormack had taken Garry Keirns to the front desk herself but was returning as Valentine pointed out Keirns leaving the building.
‘One of the funeral goers dropped off his car and left the keys with Jim. Not a bad car – a BMW,’ said McCormack.
‘Five series too; the three series obviously wasn’t flash enough for him.’
‘Not bad at all.’
‘Especially for a man who has never held a proper job these last thirty-odd years.’ The silver saloon pulled on to the roundabout and took the second exit. ‘Where does he stay?’
McCormack turned the pages of her spiral-bound notebook. ‘Inkerman Court. Do you know it?’
‘Yeah. It’s part of the yuppie development down the harbour.’
‘He didn’t say it was a flat, there’s no floor number indicated.’
‘No, Inkerman’s the town houses. Nice too, over three levels.’
‘Well, Garry Keirns hasn’t done too badly for a boy from the wrong side of the tracks.’ She put down her notebook and pressed her shoulder against the wall. ‘What did you make of him?’
‘I thought he protested too much.’
‘I thought so too. For a man who didn’t like our questions, his answers were very fulsome. You realise we’ve nothing to go on. I mean, he gave us nothing.’