‘Here. Working the day shift. Sevena.m. to threep.m., restocking the shelves, cleaning the floors, all the glamorous stuff they don’t show in the adverts.’ Duffy’s tone was bitter. ‘Twenty-seven years on the force, and this is what I’m reduced to.’
‘Anyone verify that?’ Art asked.
‘What? That I was on the force for twenty-seven years?’
‘You can dick around if you like, but we have the right to arrest you on suspicion of being a killer and march you out of here in handcuffs,’ Brodie said. ‘Then we’ll let it slip that you’re allegedly a nonce.’
Duffy pursed his lips as if he were biting back the acidic response he felt was about to jump loose. ‘Security cameras. Shift supervisor. Other staff members.’ Duffy leaned back in the chair. ‘Though I suppose you’ll want to check all that yourselves.’
‘We will,’ Cameron confirmed, making notes. ‘What about last night? Say, between 6 and 10p.m.?’
‘Home. Watching television. Eating a microwave curry.’ Duffy shrugged. ‘Exciting life I lead these days.’
‘I thought you said Linda from the bakery was going out with you on Friday?’ Brodie said.
‘On our first date. And I would be very happy if it wasn’t the last one.’
‘Anyone with you when you were at home?’ Art asked.
‘No. Divorced, remember? Kids won’t talk to me. Most of myold mates from the force act like I’ve got something contagious.’ He looked directly at Brodie. ‘You know how it is when you’re under suspicion. People start crossing the street to avoid you.’
Brodie felt the weight of that accusation. He remembered the interviews back in 2019, the way the investigation had narrowed its focus on to Duffy with increasing intensity. The man had never been charged, but his life had been destroyed anyway.
‘Mr Duffy,’ he said carefully, ‘we’re not here to re-litigate the past. We’re investigating a fresh murder that may be connected to The Embalmer case.’
‘May be?’ Duffy laughed harshly. ‘Inspector, if it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck, it’s probably a duck. Someone’s playing The Embalmer’s greatest hits, and you need to decide whether it’s me having another go or someone else picking up where the original left off.’
‘If it’s somebody else, who do you think it could be?’ Art asked.
‘There’s no if. It’s not me, so you better be focusing on the real killer or else you’ll drop the ball and he’ll get away with even more murders.’ Duffy was quiet for a moment, considering. ‘I think whoever killed that woman wants you to think about The Embalmer case again. Question is, why now? What’s changed?’
It was a good question. Brodie had been wondering the same thing himself.
Cameron’s phone rang and he excused himself and stepped out of the office.
‘You mentioned Thomas Mitchell the last time, pointing the finger,’ Brodie said. ‘Still think he’s involved?’
‘I know he’s involved. Just not sure how.’ Duffy took out a pack of cigarettes, then seemed to remember where he was and put them back. ‘You interviewed him yet?’
‘We’re planning to.’
‘Good. Ask him how come he got to do three of the funerals.’
‘The first three victims all lived in the same town, if you remember?’ Brodie said. ‘They were left in different towns, but they all came from Kirkcaldy.’
Duffy shrugged. ‘Still. He’s a crooked bastard.’
‘You can see why you were a suspect at the time,’ Brodie said. ‘You had the technical means to alter a crime scene, because you were all over the fucking crime scene with your camera and all the other doodads.’
Cameron came back into the office.
Duffy put a hand to his chin, index finger and thumb extended like he was trying to bring an emoji to life. ‘Hmm. Let’s see, shall we?’ He looked directly at Brodie. ‘I don’t know how to drain somebody’s blood out and put some bleach in. But guess who does? Thomas Mitchell and his daft laddie, Barry. Why?’ He leaned forward now, locking eyes with Brodie. ‘Because he’s a fucking undertaker.’ He sat back in the chair.
‘There are a lot of undertakers,’ Art said.
Duffy looked at him. ‘Not all of them got the contract for the funerals. He got the first three, and in case you didn’t notice him at the time, Inspector Brodie, he was creeping about the fourth crime scene. Chatting with what’s his name.’ Duffy snapped his fingers. ‘The pathologist at the time. Fred Hart. Maybe the old bastard was trying to get more work. Or maybe he was creating more work.’
‘I didn’t see him at the time.’
