“The victim was a corporate lawyer, like yourself.”
“That’s right. I believe Richard McGill practised in Glasgow up until his death. I was down in London during that period.”
“But your jobs would have been similar in nature, I presume?”
James shrugged. “I suppose so, we were both in-house lawyers for international banks.”
“Could McGill’s job have made him enemies – the types who might be able to organise such a professional killing?”
James frowned. “It depends on the types of clients the bank worked with. I’m always very careful about the institutions I choose as an employer. My father and sister spent their entire legal careers working with criminals, I deliberately chose a different path.”
“So, McGill could have known such men?” Alice leaned forward.
“It’s possible. You’d need a list of all their corporate clients and how they made their money. Of course, McGill may have been offering his services on a freelance basis in his spare time. Criminal organisations are always looking for lawyers to keep them one step ahead of the authorities.”
“I don’t think any such activities were uncovered by the original police investigation.”
“Well, it depends on where and how deeply they searched, doesn’t it? If the wife didn’t pay for the hit, that would have been my next theory.”
Alice considered this for a moment. Could McGill really have had criminal connections that left no traces the police at the time could find, she wondered?
James got to his feet, as DCI Bevan approached the workstation from the lift. He made a point of looking at his watch.
“I know, the meeting went on longer than I’d hoped, sorry,” Dani called ahead.
“Don’t worry, DI Mann here took the opportunity to question me about corporate law for this cold case you’ve both developed an unhealthy interest in.”
Alice blushed. “I apologise, Mr Irving, I let my curiosity get the better of me.”
He laughed. “Don’t worry, I’m used to coppers. Everything is part of the job for you lot, and for heaven’s sake, call me James in future.”
Chapter 11
2003
Ravi Stevens was back at his desk in Cleland CID. The atmosphere on their cramped, shabby office floor was tense. Copies of the day’s newspapers were strewn across most of the officers’ desktops and poking out of the wire-meshed bins.
DI Tony Shorter had retreated into his office and closed the door behind him. They’d heard nothing from him all morning, except the occasional rumbling vibration of the floorboards, which indicated he was pacing up and down somewhere within.
Colin Bell took the seat opposite Ravi. He dropped a fist on the front-page spread displayed on the desk before him. “Every bugger in Scotland has woken up to these headlines,” he hissed. “It’s a fucking disaster.”
The photograph that Colin’s hand was thankfully obscuring, showed a furtive-looking Tony Shorter, dragging on a cigarette, standing hunch-shouldered outside the back door of the McGills’ property, only hours after the owner had been shot down in cold blood on his own doorstep.
The headline was brutal: Has the investigation into the murder of a prominent Glasgow lawyer run out of puff? The bye-lines continued the theme, accusing the chief investigating officer of being out of his depth; contaminating a crime scene with his cigarette butts and bungling the first crucial hours of the man-hunt by delaying the deployment of the search helicopter.
Ravi had read every word before breakfast. “I don’t know how the papers got hold of that photo. It was taken when we were still examining the scene. I’m sure there weren’t any members of the public about.”
Colin sighed. “It could have been one of the techies. They were snapping every part of that building, because of the extent of the blood trails. One of them must have caught the boss on camera and decided there was some cash to be made out of the embarrassing picture.”
Ravi rubbed his eyes. It certainly was an embarrassment. In the shot, Tony’s cheeks were bright red. He was dragging on a Benson and Hedges like his life depended on it. He appeared like a man who was struggling to take control of the situation. “Was that taken whilst we were interviewing the Vogels?”
Colin frowned. “It might’ve been, but what of it? Tony likes to go out for a fag when he needs to think. It’s a way of getting some peace and quiet. You know how hectic a crime scene can become.”
The DC leant forward, lowering his voice. “He’s right outside the McGill property. The forensic guys probably bagged that cigarette butt and sent it off for analysis. How much of our already pathetic budget did that unnecessary test use up?”
Colin’s face had reddened with anger. “This is the boss you’re slagging off. He’s the man who gave you your first shot at CID.” He jabbed his finger at Ravi. “We stick together in this department. Don’t you forget it. This kind of media filth, undermining the police in their work is like manna from heaven to the bad guys.” Bell sprung to his feet, ripping the paper off the desk and dropping it into a nearby litter bin, obviously to illustrate his point.
Ravi sighed heavily. The furore over the newspaper article would blow over, he was certain of that. But the words printed there had struck a chord with him. Perhaps they really were out of their depth, they currently had no active leads to pursue. Even the discovery of the abandoned van had proved to be a dead end. None of the prints they lifted matched anyone on the police database.
*
By lunchtime, Tony had finally flung open the door of his office, striding out like a man possessed.
“Right, lads,” he announced loudly.
The room fell silent.
“I know the headlines were bad, but the Chief Constable has been very supportive. He says it is not unusual to have the media spotlight trained on us during a case such as this.”
Ravi imagined this support only materialised after his boss had given Tony a serious dressing-down for his conduct.
Tony puffed out his chest. “So, we carry on with our jobs. Keep interviewing McGill’s work colleagues and continue tracing the contents of the van. I’ll be putting out a request on local radio stations for anyone driving on the roads around Cleland between 11pm and 1am on the night of the murder to come forward. I’ll be interviewed on Radio Highlands at three. Someone out there must have seen something.”
Murmurs of agreement and nodding heads greeted Tony’s speech.
Colin rose from his swivel chair. “You’ve got our support, boss. We’ll get straight back to work.”
Ravi shuddered, imagining how uncomfortable that radio interview would be for Tony. But he had to admit it wasn’t a bad move. They could turn the media attention to their advantage if it encouraged a witness to come forward. Maybe the investigation wasn’t as doomed as it seemed.
He returned to his desk. A fax printout had been placed on top of his computer keyboard. It was the document Ravi had requested from the solicitors handling Richard McGill’s estate.
One of the lawyers had written an accompanying letter, to simplify the legal jargon for him. Ravi was grateful, as the terms of the will itself struck him as fiendishly complicated.
Richard had drafted a new will after his divorce from Eleanor Tasker and his marriage to Holly Kilpatrick. But the terms weren’t quite as Ravi would have expected.
In his original will, drawn up in 1985, Richard and Eleanor had opted to leave all their worldly-goods to one another in the case of either dying before their spouse, with an addendum that their offspring should inherit everything upon the death of their parents.
By 2002, Richard had clearly decided to take a different approach to how his assets should be divided after his death. The corporate lawyer’s considerable estate was to be split up and bequeathed to a number of different individuals.
The house in Cleland had been bought outright with the proceeds of Richard’s father’s estate. Ravi was surprised to see that the house deeds were registered in Ric
hard’s name alone.
To his new wife, Richard had bequeathed the sum of £30,000. A series of lesser amounts were to be distributed amongst roughly ten or so other individuals, whose names Ravi didn’t recognise, but he assumed were relatives and friends. Even Eleanor Tasker was to receive a lump sum of £5,000.
But to the detective’s surprise, the pay-out from Richard’s life-insurance policy, amounting to a couple of million pounds, in addition to the deeds to the renovated property in Cleland, were to be divided equally between his two children, Tania and Boris.
Ravi sat back in his chair and whistled. He thought of the delicate young widow he’d interviewed at her parents’ house in Dalry a few days before. He wondered what on earth Holly McGill was going to make of that.
Chapter 12
Present Day
Dani gazed out of the passenger window at the lush, undulating landscape. It felt like a relief to get out of the city for a few hours. She glanced across to the driving seat. Ravi Stevens was gripping the steering wheel hard, staring resolutely ahead.
“When was the last time you were here?” She asked matter-of-factly.
“It was a week after Richard’s murder. I’ve spoken with Holly many times since, of course. But I never came back.”
Dani could sense the tension gripping his long, lean body. It seemed to grow in intensity as they entered the town and navigated the car towards the wide, leafy road upon which the grand, double-fronted stone house stood.
Ravi approached the front door and pressed the bell. Holly McGill knew they were coming, he had made a point of calling ahead. The detective hadn’t been entirely sure where she was living these days for a start.
Dani carefully observed the middle-aged woman who opened-up. She was of smaller than average height, with a slim build and shoulder-length, light brown hair. Her features were neat and pretty. She wore a knee-length skirt and cashmere sweater in neutral tones.
“DI Stevens,” Holly pronounced. “How good to see you again.” Her face lit up with a smile, indicating the words were genuine.
Ravi grunted an acknowledgement, turning around and introducing Dani. “I’ve been very fortunate that DCI Bevan agreed to accompany me today.”
Holly beckoned for them to follow her into the large hallway. “I’m extremely grateful, Detective Chief Inspector. After all this time, I never expected to be granted a meeting with such a high-ranking officer.”
Dani shook the woman’s hand. “This visit isn’t official, I’m afraid. Your late husband’s case remains closed, but we are continually reviewing any unsolved crimes on our books. DI Stevens persuaded me to take a closer look at this one.”
Holly ushered the guests into a pleasant living room, with views out onto an established garden, where a damp afternoon mist hung low over the neat lawn. Holly followed a few moments later, carrying a tray filled with refreshments. She’d clearly been expecting them.
“You needn’t have gone to any trouble on our behalf,” Ravi grunted, still appearing to find the situation awkward. “I don’t want to give you any false hopes.”
Holly perched on an armchair. “You aren’t doing that, detective. I like to talk about the case, it makes me feel as if I’m keeping his memory alive.”
Dani leant forward. “You never returned to the house in Cleland after your husband’s death?”
Holly clasped her hands in her lap. “DI Shorter, who was in charge of the case back then, suggested that I come back here, to my parents’ house, immediately after the murder. It turned out to be good advice. I was in terrible shock.”
“It was during that time I came to interview you,” Ravi added.
She nodded. “I’d been prescribed sedatives and later anti-depressants by my family doctor. It took months for me to fully recover. When I did get stronger, I found out that the house I’d shared with Richard, wasn’t really mine at all.”
“Your husband bought the house in his own name, bequeathing the property to his children in the will that had been drawn up in 2002,” Dani prompted, having read the case notes carefully.
“Yes, along with the bulk of his estate.” She brushed a hand through her fine hair. “He didn’t leave me completely destitute, there was a generous bequest, but it certainly wasn’t the half-share I’d been expecting.”
“Finding that out must have been very painful?” Dani poured tea from the pot into the three cups.
Holly sighed. “I was younger then. I thought Richard loved me over all others. I assumed it was why he was unfaithful to his wife with me for all those years, and then why he married me. But I understand now, that I was simply the second wife.”
Ravi crinkled his forehead, looking confused.
Holly smiled. “Oh, I don’t expect you to understand, DI Stevens. You’re probably still with the woman you married back then, have been faithful to her all these years, no matter how tempted you may have been to stray.”
Ravi’s face flushed pink, he busied himself stirring sugar into his drink.
“I know now, that Richard had become bored with Eleanor, she was older than me and a housewife. I was the younger, more independent woman. Richard enjoyed my energy and the fact I wasn’t interested in having children, no doubt.” She sipped her tea. “He loved me, but it wasn’t the deep kind of love he felt for his own offspring.”
“They were his flesh and blood,” Ravi added kindly. “A father will do anything to protect his children, even if they drive him to distraction.”
Holly nodded. “Quite so, because they did annoy him. That’s what threw me off the scent, I suppose. Tania and Boris used to stay with us for weekends at the old farmhouse. Richard never stopped complaining about the rubbish they ate or their bad manners. I genuinely thought he disliked them.”
“It’s difficult to understand the dynamics of families,” Dani commented. “The divorce had put a strain on their relationship, I imagine.”
“Yes, it had. And there I was, the new step-mother, lording it about in my beautiful house, telling Boris to take off his shoes at the door, and not to eat his snacks on the sofa.” She let out a humourless laugh. “All the time it was their house, not mine at all. I was a fool.” She sighed. “My lawyer told me I could have contested the new will. If we went to court I would very likely get a larger settlement, certainly a proportion of the value of the house, where I had lived with Richard. But I didn’t want that. I’d already tried to deny the children part of their inheritance. Richard wanted them to have his money. I couldn’t go against his wishes, however much it hurt.”
Dani narrowed her eyes inquisitively. “Then if you don’t mind me asking, why have you dedicated so much time to your husband’s case? You could have moved on and left it all behind you?”
Holly shrugged. “I still loved him. His children were too young to be able to liaise with the Highlands and Islands police, or co-ordinate media campaigns. Richard had thoroughly alienated Eleanor by that point, and who could blame her. Most of Richard’s friends drifted away not long after the funeral, even those who received money from the will. Who was left to keep fighting, keep looking, but me?”
Ravi had regained his composure. “You haven’t been here all this time, though?” He gazed around him at the old-fashioned décor, largely unchanged from how it had been when he was last there, fifteen years before.
“No, I rented a flat in the city for a while. I even ran my campaign out of an office by the river for several years. It was important to keep the case fresh in people’s minds. I was hoping for a new witness to come forward, so I needed publicity. I ran the Edinburgh Marathon twice, badgered newspaper and TV editors by phone and email.”
“What made you come back to Dalry?” Dani asked.
“My father died a decade ago, but my mother was still in the house until last year, when she passed away after a short battle with cancer. I came back to nurse her at the end. I’ve stayed ever since.” She smiled ruefully. “This was one inheritance I knew I was guaranteed. I’m an only chi
ld and a parent’s love is the only true thing you can rely on in this life, don’t you think?”
Dani nodded. She couldn’t help but agree. And sometimes, she thought without bitterness, you couldn’t even rely on that.
Chapter 13
2003
Tony Shorter emerged from the offices of the radio station feeling humiliated. He unconsciously shook himself, as if to throw off the memory of the interview he’d just given. He automatically reached for the packet of cigarettes in the top pocket of his jacket, before changing his mind and stuffing his hands resolutely into his pockets, marching back towards his parked car.
The drive-time presenter had given Shorter a grilling over the photograph, questioning him closely about how the investigation was progressing, insinuating that they were no closer to finding the culprit. But the DI still managed to put across his appeal for witnesses, wanting to get the message out directly to motorists in the Cleland area. It was worth shouldering the personal embarrassment for that. It would simply be a waiting game now, to see if anyone responded.
Tony found himself driving in the direction of the Westall Hills, which he could see in profile against the fading light of the late afternoon. He turned off the main road from Cleland and onto the uneven single track which led to the McGill property.
The police tape was still securing the front door. Tony noticed that the Jaguar X type had been removed from its parking space on the gravel driveway. His department had released the vehicle to Richard McGill’s solicitors. He imagined the car would be auctioned off and the proceeds would end up with the dead man’s children.
Tony got out of the driver’s seat and approached the property. He knew that the widow had not yet returned. According to DC Stevens, she was in no state to be coming back anytime soon. This didn’t surprise Tony. Holly McGill had witnessed the aftermath of her husband’s bloody murder. She’d probably never be the same again.
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