The Viv Fraser Mysteries Box Set 1

by V Clifford

  ‘Suppose.’ She looked unconvinced. ‘I’ve not heard good things about her brother, though I can’t imagine it would have been him that she left the pub with. It all happened really quickly. She can’t stand him and she’d never have gone quietly if it had been him. I’d gone to the loo, got chatting to someone, and when I came back she was gone. I ran out onto the street but couldn’t see anything. The flat was empty when I got back. Two friends came with me and tried to calm me down but I was mad at myself for leaving her for so long.’

  ‘But you couldn’t have known this was going to happen.’ Viv caught an odd look crossing her face, ‘Could you?’

  Silence. Rebecca shook her head and her big doe eyes filled up again.

  Viv noticed the waitress getting fidgety. ‘Look, drink up. We’ll have to give up the table.’

  The girl looked confused.

  ‘They only had a table free for half an hour. We can go across to the pub and find a seat there.’

  The Bow Bar was packed with people who love real ale and finding a seat wasn’t easy, but a couple of stools at the back had coats on them and Viv asked if it was okay to shift them. It was, and they perched at the edge of a beer soaked table, staring into a sea of groins belonging to punters whose chatter was so loud, at times raucous, that Viv couldn’t hear herself think. She began to shout a question but shook her head and gestured towards the door with her thumb. Without ordering a drink, they made their way back through the throng and out into the cold night air. Viv looked up and down Victoria Street for inspiration. ‘Everywhere will be busy.’ The idea of taking Rebecca upstairs to the flat did cross her mind but only briefly before she suggested, ‘How about I just work with what you’ve given me?’

  ‘But I thought I could help.’

  ‘You have. By the way, I know this is self-evident but have you tried her mobile?’

  ‘I’ve left so many messages that Orange say she has to delete some before they’ll accept any more.’

  ‘Can you give me the number?’

  A slight hesitation before Rebecca reached into a deep side pocket in her trouser leg, pulled out her phone and searched. She read the number and Viv keyed it into her own phone. It struck Viv that with a bit of effort she could find the location of the last use of the phone, but all she said was, ‘You’ve given me enough of Tess’s details to make a start. Leave it with me. I’ll keep you posted if I find anything, and you do the same.’

  Rebecca looked doubtful but nodded her agreement. ‘Right. See you.’

  Viv watched as the hunched-up figure walked across the road and disappeared up the stone steps that led to the Upper Bow and the High Street. There was no sign of anyone following her but some instinct made Viv go after her. As Rebecca reached Milne’s Court, on the other side of the High Street, she stopped, took out her phone and spoke to someone for a minute or so, her body language in complete contrast to five minutes before when she was with Viv. Fascinated at the change, Viv hovered in a shop doorway until Rebecca continued on her way through the close towards the top of the Playfair steps. Leading to Princes Street.

  Chapter Six

  Viv let herself into the flat, closed the door and leant on it, feeling uneasy about ‘Beccs’ and wondering where to start her enquiry. The university website was her first port of call. She typed in Tessa Grant. Only one thing came up. She had won the first year geology prize. Viv cursed then emailed Beccs. She hadn’t got a photograph of Tess and there was biff all she could do without one. She checked her mobile and listened to a message from Mac. ‘I said I’d ring you, but I’m now going to be busy for the rest of the night. I’ll try you in the morning.’

  She flicked the TV on and scanned for local news. Nothing could compete with ‘Strictly’ unless the world was ending, and even then Viv imagined the news channel being interrupted with updates about competitors. She found the BBC’s Scottish news website running the same piece on the canal, but no update.

  She rang Red. ‘Hi Red, you still want to meet? I could do with picking your brain.’

  ‘Sure, Doc. Like there’s anything in my brain that’s worth picking.’

  ‘I didn’t say I was looking for superior info.’

  They both laughed. Red was a DI who’d been fast-tracked for good reason but even so Viv’s qualifications were always a source of wit or wonder and Red was not the only person who just couldn’t get the hang of Viv being a hairdresser, with a PhD, who wrote the occasional column. The writing bit should be less problematical than the other two: anyone could be inquisitive.

  ‘What have you got, Doc, that I can use? I’m guessing it must have something to do with that young woman otherwise you wouldn’t have shown up at the canal. Am I right?’

  ‘Yep. So how about a coffee or . . . ’

  ‘No can do, I’m not coming off shift anytime soon . . . although you could always come to HQ. Great coffee here.’

  ‘Since when?’

  ‘Since we clubbed together for a supersonic Gaggia, that’s when.’

  This was all the incentive Viv needed. ‘Okay, I’ll head down now. Alert them at the desk, will you?’

  Before she set out she took a quick look at her inbox again. There was a reply from Beccs, sent from her phone, with a photograph attached: a fantastic, clear picture of Rebecca and a girl who must be Tess, mucking about in front of the camera. Beccs, in days before piercings, looked too young to be out alone, with her dark blonde hair, full lips and a twinkle in those huge brown eyes. Tess was a fresh-faced, blue-eyed blonde clinging round Beccs’s neck. They were both grinning for, or at, the photographer. Joyful times couldn’t have been that long ago. Viv copied the photograph to a memory stick and headed back out onto the West Bow.

  It took her twenty minutes to drive to Fettes, Edinburgh West’s police headquarters. The guy at the desk asked her to sign in and handed her a visitor’s card on a ribbon, which she slipped over her head. Viv hovered while he rang Red. Apart from new carpets and a lick of paint, the place hadn’t changed all that much since her dad had brought her here as a child. Two minutes later a door on the far right of the foyer opened and Red sauntered towards Viv, pointing to some new comfy chairs set on either side of a low table by the window. They were almost equal in height although Red was broader and seemed to take up a disproportionate amount of space on her seat.

  ‘What about my coffee?’

  Red, in a hushed tone, said, ‘You’ll get it in a minute. Sal’s in the incident room at the moment so I can’t sneak you through until she’s gone.’

  Viv’s panic began to rise. Sal wasn’t supposed to be back for the weekend. She was in no position to explain to Sal her lack of communication. But she heard herself stutter, ‘Why would she object?’

  Red snorted. ‘What, as to the small matter of me bringing a hack into the hub of an unsolved case?’ She tapped her chin. ‘Now, let me see.’

  Viv ran her hands over her face and through her hair, and winced at the memory of Rebecca doing a similar thing earlier. A look of distaste must have registered on her face because Red looked questioningly at her, ‘What’s with the face?’

  ‘Oh nothing . . . but listen, I have a problem. Friends have asked me to look for a missing person. Which in itself wouldn’t cause me a dilemma. I’d just go about my unscrupulous digging and expose whatever I find, but the girlfriend of the missing girl is the daughter of a politician, and she’s terrified of being outed. Now, I know that when I start snooping there’s bound to be all sorts of stuff that surfaces, but will I be able to use it? No is the answer because my good friend Margo has sworn me to secrecy.’

  ‘So, why bother, Viv? You could just give me the details and we’ll take a look.’

  This was exactly what Viv was hoping for and she grinned at Red. ‘Would you do that for me?’

  ‘Oi! Stop taking the piss or I’ll retract my offer. What have you got so far?’

  ‘Not much. Two women allegedly missing. Each one from a different night at the Dragon. The first
I know nothing about, but the second, more recent, is known to these friends of mine and they’re worried about her. She’s a geology student at Edinburgh University called Tessa Grant, apparently from Aberdeen. Her dad works in oil and her mum is a teacher. Tess lives in a flat with three other females, all students, one of them her girlfriend – Rebecca Younger.’ Viv raised her eyebrows.

  Red grinned. ‘Don’t tell me, daughter of Malcolm Younger MP?’

  ‘You got it. And he doesn’t know that his daughter is . . . ’

  ‘Gay. God, Viv. It’s unbelievable how many youngsters are too scared of their parents to tell them who they are. Anyway, we’ve got the young woman from the canal, who doesn’t seem to have been reported missing, and all we have is a tiny floral tattoo and some old scar tissue where she was bludgeoned, so far, to identify her. She’s in her early twenties, twenty-five at most. Stomach contents show no sign of alcohol, only white bread and processed cheese. But listen, your girl has now been reported, if not officially, at least to you.’

  Viv wondered what the chances were of getting to see a photograph of the girl from the canal, and as if Red had read her mind she said, ‘I’ll let you have a peek when Sal goes.’ Then suddenly, ‘No, wait.’ She took out her phone, ‘I forgot I had these emailed to me so you can have a quick look here.’ She scrolled through her emails then handed Viv her phone. The poor girl in the photograph, although barely identifiable, had reddish pink hair and so wasn’t Tess. Red noted the relief on Viv’s face. ‘It ain’t your girl then?’

  ‘No. No, it’s not her. But what a mess. That can’t be death by natural causes.’

  ‘We think not but it’ll be a long haul to find out who she is and why this happened to her. Suzanne McDermid is the pathologist. She’s thorough and won’t be rushed, so I’m not expecting anything on paper anytime soon.’

  Viv hadn’t met McDermid, but had covered work that she’d been involved in. She’d heard detectives call her a ball-breaker, which usually meant she was intimidatingly good at her job.

  Viv took out her memory stick and held it up. ‘Anywhere I can show you a picture on this?’

  Red nibbled on her lip for a moment, then said, ‘Through here.’ She put her security card up against a pad and the door released. They walked along a wide, brightly lit corridor with carpet on the floor. It smelled like any other office. If criminals had access here the floors would be tiled and the walls painted institutional grey: the colour which least excites the excitable. Viv smiled at the notion of some bloke off his face on some unmentionable chemical cocktail being influenced by some bureaucrat’s choice of paint.

  They entered a room with windows almost floor to ceiling along one wall, overlooking the car park. Red sat, and rode a chair on casters across the room to a desk that already had a chair beside it. ‘Grab that seat and we’ll boot up.’ When the image appeared Viv spotted a couple of details in the photograph that she hadn’t noticed earlier. She zoomed in a couple of times and confirmed that Tess sported a small tattoo on her upper arm. A floral motif.

  Red, screwed-up her eyes, ‘Hey, Doc, I know you hate coincidences but that there tattoo is looking a lot like the one on the princess from the canal.’

  They looked at one another bemused. Then Viv asked, ‘So, what’s next? Can we run this picture through your system to see if there are any matches? It would be really useful if my young Tess has had cause to be involved with the law.’

  Red scratched her head, loosening a few rich red curls, and drew in a huge breath, releasing it emphatically. ‘I’d love to do that, Doc. But I can’t unless she’s been officially reported missing.’

  Viv raised her eyebrows. ‘And being a very clever officer you’re about to tell me that you know some way round such an inconvenience?’

  ‘No, I’m not. Every single time a computer is switched on, each action is logged and I’m not taking the rap for running a long and expensive programme for . . . ’

  ‘The coincidence of two similar tattoos on two girls, one dead and the other . . . who knows where? Come on, Red, you can do it.’

  Red fidgeted. Then said, ‘Leave it with me. I can’t do it at the moment. There are too many people in the incident room.’ She copied the photograph of Tess onto her phone and as she did asked, ‘How come you’re involved in this, Viv, and why didn’t Margo Mackintosh just come to us?’

  Viv shrugged. ‘No idea. I’m just helping out a friend.’

  Red shook her head. ‘Why do I find that difficult to believe?’

  ‘Margo’s a good friend.’

  Red was obviously impressed. ‘She’d have to be. Hope she’s paying you well. Saturday night . . . double time at least.’

  Viv shook her own head. ‘See you guys on PAYE, you’re always trying to screw the last ha’penny out of the system. You should try being self-employed for a while. Whether I get paid or not is none of your concern.’

  ‘Must be love, Doc. Nobody works for nowt.’

  Viv laughed. ‘Red. I didn’t say I was working for nowt or otherwise, so save your breath . . . to cool your porridge.’

  ‘That you offering to make me porridge?’

  Viv sniggered again. ‘You’re a total lost cause. I’ll phone you tomorrow for an update.’

  Red got to her feet and they wandered back to reception where Red rubbed Viv’s shoulder. ‘I’ll do what I can.’

  ‘Thanks . . . By the way if I die of caffeine deprivation it’ll be your fault.’

  Red began to reoffer but Viv just waved her hand and walked toward the exit.

  As Viv approached her car, a familiar voice shouted, ‘Viv!’ It was Mac. ‘What are you doing here?’

  Cautious not to give too much away, ‘I was just in to see Sandra . . . ’

  He looked doubtful.

  She stressed. ‘I’m here by invitation!’

  ‘Yeah sure, Viv. It’s Saturday night.’

  She shook her head again. ‘What is it with you guys, and your obsession with Saturday night? Am I missing some kind of sacred ritual thing or what?’

  He turned round and emphatically parted the hair at the back of his head. ‘You seeing a zip or buttons or what?’

  She conceded, ‘Okay. I’m looking for someone and Sandra has a case . . . the girl found in the canal and . . . ’

  He interrupted, which was unusual for him. ‘And you thought it might be your girl, and wheedled a way in to sweet talk DI Nicholson into sharing confidential information with you.’

  ‘It wasn’t like that.’

  ‘Sure.’ He gestured with his head for her to go back inside. Viv hesitated, weighing up the possibilities, but decided co-operation was best. He held the door and she brushed against him as they tucked themselves into the space between the sitting area and the door. Gone were the days when he’d have been reeking of smoke after a pint in the pub; now a fresh lemony smell hung in the air between them, which reminded her he’d had a post match shower.

  ‘How was your game?’

  Mac wasn’t daft and didn’t bite, but grinned and raised one eyebrow. ‘Fine, thanks. Want to fill me in on your missing person?’

  Viv identified the command veiled as a question, and conceded. ‘I’ve told Sandra everything that I know.’ This was a white lie, but since her enquiries were all supposed to be unofficial, she didn’t want to give everything away too soon. There was always a chance that it would all turn out to be a big mistake. Tess could have taken herself off somewhere for a break. But unconvinced by her own rhetoric she said, ‘Okay, here’s what I’ve got: a women-only night at the Dragon, a young woman escorted outside by a bloke, possibly her brother, and hasn’t been seen since. Friends of mine are worried and asked me to help. When I heard the piece about the girl turning up in the canal, naturally I thought it worth a look and discovered Red.’ Seeing his confusion she continued. ‘DI Nicholson was heading the case. She hasn’t told me anything about it, but at least I know that the body from the canal is not the girl I’m looking for. Is that okay for y
ou?’

  ‘No, it is not. Why hasn’t she been reported missing?’

  Viv ruffled her fringe. ‘I don’t know. She’s a student at Edinburgh. It’s the middle of term. Her parents may not even know that she’s not around. I didn’t ever contact my mum from one week’s end to the next, so that’s nothing unusual.’

  Mac nodded. ‘But if someone’s worried, then the circumstances must have been odd. Who wants you to look at this?’

  Viv nibbled the inside of her cheek. ‘Margo Mackintosh.’ This had exactly the effect that she guessed it would and he nodded with his head on the side.

  ‘Well with a legal nose like hers twitching there’s more than an outside chance that something dodgy happened. Describe to me exactly what Ms Mackintosh saw.’

  Viv went over what she’d been told by Margo, Lindy and Rebecca. Mac’s only response was, ‘So much for feminism.’

  Viv snorted. ‘Oh, don’t be fooled into thinking that lesbianism has anything to do with feminism. Lesbians can be as misogynistic as the next bloke. It’s a sad fact that some are much worse. My friend Lindy did try to stop the guy from taking her but the girl didn’t want help. This makes me think that she must have known him and had some kind of relationship with him. Margo and Lindy said that he spoke with an accent that wasn’t Scottish. How they could tell this with the racket in there is anyone’s guess. The girl’s parents live in Aberdeen but no one has mentioned that she speaks with an Aberdeenshire accent, although they did say Scottish, definitely Scottish.’ It crossed Viv’s mind that perhaps the ‘foreign accent’ was the Doric, an easy mistake for a lowlander to make.

  Mac was a good listener and when he was sure she’d finished he said, ‘If you can get a photograph of her, we’ll run it through the system.’

  Viv smiled, and he nodded knowingly. ‘I see. That’s already been done?’

  ‘Not quite. But Red says she’ll do it if she gets a chance.’