by V Clifford
‘No, lady, it is not Gabriella. I’m someone you haven’t met and wouldn’t want to . . .’
There was a scuffle in the background and the line went dead. She dialled one four seven one and a voice said. ‘The caller withheld their number.’ The caller’s strong American accent definitely didn’t belong to anyone she knew. Pastor Rawlins was the only American that she had been interested in recently. ‘Crikey! Another threat.’ When her mobile rang her belly clenched. She checked caller ID and found it was Mac. Relieved, she held the phone to her ear. ‘Hi, Mac.’
‘What’s going on?’ As if he’d already picked up her anxiety.
‘Just had a call. American voice. A caricature of threatening . . . ’
‘You do one four seven one?’
‘Yeah. Number withheld.’
‘You really up for another journey, Viv?’
She sighed and shook her head. ‘Not really, but as you say the sooner I ID him the sooner he’ll be out of our hair. And maybe he’ll talk . . . Can you ask the Grampian guys to find out if my attacker knows anything about Pastor Rawlins? He’s the chap who ran off with the church funds.’
‘You get here asap . . . you sure you’re all right?’
The idea of driving had no appeal to her. ‘Actually, Mac, if there’s any chance that you could pick me up I’d really appreciate that. I’m knackered and I’m parked a million miles away.’
He knew she’d never accept a lift, let alone ask for one unless she was desperate. ‘Give me half an hour or so.’
‘Okay. And Mac, I’ll wait for you at the war memorial. There’s filming in Victoria Street and parking’s bedlam.’
‘Sure. Half an hour.’
After a hot shower Viv plastered her shoulder in arnica gel, dressed losing the bandages, then headed out the door. She passed her new neighbour, a Spanish post grad, who had taken the flat below her. She had only met him a couple of times, the last when he invited her in for coffee but produced endless plates of food that he’d been sent from his home, an organic pig farm in Salamanca. They exchanged pleasantries and she nodded a vague answer to his request that they get together again.
The film crew were still at work with their cameras set up on Victoria Terrace. She glanced across to Gabriella’s and saw her speaking to a customer, but her back was to the street so she didn’t see Viv. There were a few men sitting with cans of beer on the steps of the war memorial, so Viv hovered outside the joke shop window until she spotted Mac’s Audi turning in. As she opened the car door she looked back and saw Gabriella at her shop doorway still with the customer. Their eyes met but Gabriella quickly looked away.
The leather strap of Viv’s rucksack got caught in Mac’s car door and she blasphemed trying to untangle it from the recliner switch. ‘Shit! Shit! Shit!’
Mac smiled. ‘Everything all right there?’
‘Don’t even . . . ’
She didn’t finish, remembering this was not Mac’s problem. ‘Sorry.’ She took a deep breath and leaned back into the headrest. ‘Give me a minute and I’ll be fine.’
Mac performed a nifty U-turn and they were on their way.
Mac laughed. ‘I heard from Aberdeen just now. Get this. Your attacker says that he was trying to free you from the shed when you kicked him in the groin.’
With a fair bit of effort she turned in her seat and looked at him in disbelief. ‘What a nerve . . . ’
‘Your word against his.’
‘Yeah, sure, Mac. I whacked myself on the back of the head then locked myself in a shed and, unprovoked, booted some guy, who was trying to save me, in the balls. And I don’t think.’
Mac smiled. ‘Did you hear what I said? Your word against his.’
She shook her head. ‘I don’t fucking believe this. How can the Aberdeen guys . . . ’
He interrupted her before her rant took off. ‘They’re not stupid, Viv. They’ll be doing everything to gather evidence. When he knocked you out you must have fallen and he must have lifted you. There will be fibres if not DNA. But it will take time, and he is saying that you walloped him. I’m just trying to prepare you for what’s about to happen. Stay calm.’
There was nothing worse than someone telling you to stay calm. ‘Well, indebted I’m sure,’ she growled under her breath.
‘Oi! Don’t shoot the messenger.’ He shook his head. ‘Now let’s you and I go over the whole story again. Starting with your night out to the Dragon with Margo et al.’
‘Oh God. Do we have to?’
He thrummed his fingers on the steering wheel. ‘I think it would help if I have as much information as you do. I don’t need to remind you that you got me involved in this. So everything, come on, spill.’
Viv went through the process of explaining how she had been asked by Margo to find Tess Grant. Firstly, her meeting with Rebecca, going through Tess’s room and the emails between Tess and the person she referred to as ‘Si’.
‘The guy that’s banged up in Aberdeen, saying I beat him up, must be involved in the church. When I first mentioned going to speak to other members of the congregation about Tess’s dad, he got really tetchy. I wonder if there actually is a building where they worship, or if they meet in each others houses.’
Mac gave her a searching look. ‘You mean no building with an altar or a font?’
‘Church didn’t originally mean bricks and mortar. It applied to the followers. They can worship anywhere, indoors or out, altar or not. We could be talking about someone’s back room, even a chicken shed.’ He raised his eyebrows and she continued. ‘Andrew Grant, Tess’s dad, works for an oil company, so I’m sure we’ll be able to trace him through their offices in Aberdeen. If we get hold of him we’ll be well on our way to finding Tess. I have a funny feeling she’ll be with the family. Wherever they are now.’
He pondered what she’d said. ‘It’ll be interesting to see what we can pump from William Harvey.’ He nodded. ‘Why do so many religious groups attract crazy folk?’
Viv stared out as they swept past green fields, her view occasionally interrupted by an efficient single stroke of a windscreen wiper clearing light drizzle.
She answered. ‘The Eastern Brethren is a pretty popular sect in the USA, but who knows what could have become of them in Aberdeenshire. The committee that chose Pastor Rawlins obviously weren’t too hot on judging good character. By the way, the guy that bashed me has a tattoo with ‘Jesus Saves’ on his butt.’
Mac didn’t answer but shook his head. As they turned off the motorway towards Dundee Mac pressed a button on the radio. ‘I’d be surprised if the local radio haven’t got hold of this yet.’
Viv hadn’t given this a thought, but of course they were bound to pick it up. She could even have made the local newspapers. They listened to traffic news before a young woman gave the headlines. Sure enough they ran a story where a man had been taken into custody after ‘allegedly’ attacking a woman on a farm.
Viv sighed. ‘Thank goodness it happened in Aberdeen and not Glasgow. Imagine . . . actually I guess nothing short of a stabbing would make them turn out at the Glasgow courts, and even then I’d have to be dead.’ They laughed knowingly. Scotland was one country, but many lands.
Chapter Sixteen
When they arrived at Grampian police HQ there wasn’t a soul in sight. Mac opened Viv’s door and helped her from the car. She hissed, ‘I’m not an invalid,’ then yelped as she caught her shoulder on the edge of the door. Mac looked away and whistled, but turned back with a grin on his face. She, with eyes bulging, pointed a finger at him, daring him to utter a word.
Once inside she was reassured that Mac immediately switched into autopilot and the whole form filling process, second nature to him, was over before she knew it. One of the officers who had taken her to hospital appeared, his tanned face incongruous in this grey walled corridor with grubby linoleum and industrial strip lighting.
‘Due for a refit any time soon?’ offered Mac.
The officer raised his eyebro
ws. ‘I don’t think décor is high on anyone’s priority list . . . ’ He opened a door and stepped aside to let them through. Mac said, ‘What’s the story?’
The officer filled Mac in as he led the way. ‘He swears that he was trying to help Doctor Fraser here to get out of the chicken shed, when she went for him.’
Viv drew in a huge breath and shook her head in disgust.
Mac put up his hand. ‘You don’t have to say anything yet, Viv; relax. This is going to be fine.’ He turned back to the officer. ‘What did forensics find?’
The officer looked from Mac to Viv and back again. Mac nodded his permission.
‘They’ve not had much luck . . . ’
Viv interrupted him. ‘All they have to do is take a sample from the inside of my jacket pocket, and a sample from his passenger seat and they’ll find all manner of matches. Mainly biscuit crumbs, but fibres and tissue paper fragments probably with my DNA on them. He emptied my pockets when he knocked me out the first time. When . . . ‘ choosing her words carefully, ‘I got free I retrieved them from the front passenger seat of his Nissan truck.’
Mac nodded again to the officer, who then gestured to Viv to remove her jacket. He handed her an evidence bag which she dropped the jacket into. He left with the jacket in the bag, while they waited in tense silence for him to return.
‘Tea anyone?’ A cheerful female PC stuck her head round the door.
Mac responded. ‘I’ll have a cup.’
‘Milk and two?’
He nodded and smiled at the PC.
Viv looked at Mac. ‘You don’t usually take sugar.’
‘No, but it could be grisly and sugar will get it over.’
‘Crikey, Mac, does nothing change outside the capital? Female still on crap tea duty.’ She blew out her disdain.
‘Every unit is different, Viv. Inverness is totally switched on. They’ve even got a female DCI.’
‘Yeah, they might have but the fact that you say “even” means it’s still nowhere near standard procedure. Neanderthal policing or what?’
‘You’d better save your breath for your broth until these guys get you out of what could become a fiasco if we’re not careful.’
As if her message had got round, a male PC knocked and entered with their tea and a plate of chocolate digestives. Mac threw a ‘watch it’ look at Viv that made her grin.
‘Digestives. Mmm, my favourite.’
Mac threw her another look. The tea wasn’t bad.
The officer returned and, speaking more to Mac than Viv, said, ‘This guy has more names than Di Caprio. He told us he was William Harvey but his wallet and glove compartment turned up a selection of cards with different names on all of them.’
This made Viv sit forward in her seat. ‘Any chance that we could see what those other names are?’
The officer turned to Mac, who nodded. ‘Don’t see why not.’
The officer poked his head out of the door and spoke to someone in the corridor. Then returned. ‘So what’s going on, Doctor Fraser, that you’re in Aberdeenshire on investigative work that we don’t know about? It’s manners to let the local police know when you’re nosing about in something illegal.’
Viv screwed up her face. ‘Wait a minute. I haven’t done anything illegal. I was only looking into a matter for a friend who is worried about someone.’
‘It’s all a bit of a coincidence that we’ve been trying to get a handle on a group,’ he continued, his tone sarcastic. ‘You might have heard of them: the Eastern Brethren. Their pastor has gone missing with a large sum of money.’
Mac interrupted. ‘Two hundred and fifty thousand.’
The officer looked surprised. ‘How did you know that?’
‘Viv, I mean Doctor Fraser has been looking for a young girl, unofficially reported missing, and among the girl’s emails and correspondence she discovered the troubles at the church.’
Viv’s mouth twitched at this suitably vague summary. The officer wasn’t daft and shook his head in disbelief.
‘The more information we all have,’ his emphasis on all, ‘the better, wouldn’t you say? Now I’m guessing that’s why you were at the farm. I’d like to hear the whole story. So from the top, Doctor Fraser, and don’t be shy.’
Viv told him about her first visit on Sunday at noon and how even then the guy, whatever his name turned out to be, was on edge. Keen to warn her off. Then on Monday when she returned she’d been taking a peek in the barn when someone crept up behind her and whacked her on the back of the head. When she woke up she was in the chicken shed. As she recalled this she still couldn’t imagine what his motivation was. Unless he believed it was some way of torturing her. The actual escape sounded completely unreal when she described him blinding her with the headlights of his truck and her instinctive reaction when he began to bring the crowbar down towards her head.
‘The rest you know.’
‘Wait a minute. Was he really aiming at your head?’
Viv sighed. ‘Of course he was. And I wasn’t about to die in a chicken shed in . . . ’
Mac sensed where she was going with this and kicked her beneath the table to prevent her from offending her best hope.
‘Yes. Go on.’
‘I’m not ready to meet my Maker and you’d have done the same as me if faced with a crowbar-wielding nutcase.’
‘I’ve no doubt you’re right. But how am I to prove that he wasn’t acting in self-defence?’
‘Does he have character references or something? He threatened me on Sunday and then walloped me twice on Monday. There’ll be enough DNA around him. He must have carried me into the chicken shed. His tee-shirt, jacket, jeans, car seat: somewhere out there is proof in the form of my hair or fibres from my jacket, scarf.’ She rolled her free hand. ‘Remember he took everything out of my pockets and left them on the front seat of his truck. It’s not frickin’ rocket science.’
Mac gently kicked her again.
The officer stood with his head cocked and eyebrows raised. Then quietly in his soft Aberdeen accent, ‘It’s all right, Doctor Fraser. We get the same resources as your chum here does down in Fettes.’
Mac butted in. ‘She just meant . . .’
‘I know what she meant. We’ve already got forensics onto stuff from the truck. Rome wasn’t built in a day. His story is that he was trying to help . . .’
Viv lost it. ‘His story is a pack of lies. D’you think I whacked myself on the back of the fucking head?’
Mortified, she felt her eyes filling and put her hand over her face.
‘As it happens we don’t think that you whacked yourself over the head, nor do we think you fell and bumped it. But, as you probably know, what we think and what we can prove are two different things. Now what else have you got that will help me build a convincing story to keep him for another day. Everything mind.’ The warning in his voice was obvious.
Viv went through the whole thing again, right down to the details about emails and the letters redirected to Tess from her home.
This time the officer nodded. ‘Right, that’s better. We can get a look at his computer. See what’s going on there. You weren’t planning on going south again?’
Viv turned to Mac, who asked, ‘How long do you think you’ll need her here?’
‘There’s not much more apart from the ID that she’s got to be here for. But I’d want to know she wasn’t planning to leave the country.’
Mac smiled. ‘I’ll vouch for her.’ He sensed Viv’s eyes boring a hole in the side of his head. Viv sat, incredulous that they’d just spoken about her as if she wasn’t there.
‘Right, Doctor Fraser, if you follow me we’ll let you have a look at him.’
She was led into a room with a window through which she could see into another room. Her attacker was brought in and Viv gasped. It was definitely him.
‘Could you ask him to turn round and lift up his tee-shirt? He has a tattoo just above his butt that says “Jesus Saves”.’
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nbsp; After a few minutes an officer entered the custody room, and indicated for him to lift his shirt. Her attacker stared at the mirror defiantly. Then he grinned and suddenly lunged towards it, flicking his studded tongue at her. She leapt back, knocking over a chair. The officer in the other room grabbed his arm. Viv quickly recovered herself but felt unsettled knowing that he knew she was there even though he couldn’t see her. Her knowledge of the tattoo convinced the officer that he was her attacker and he led Viv back to where Mac was waiting. Her ashen face was a sign that she’d had enough.
‘Let’s get out of here.’ Mac took her arm and they headed out to the car. ‘Everything’s going to be fine, Viv. They just can’t show you any preferential treatment.’
She pulled her arm away. ‘I wasn’t expecting preferential treatment. I only need them to use their brain cells.’
‘Yes, and you were not very tactful about that, were you? If someone spoke to you the way you spoke to that detective you’d have gone off your rocker. I know you’re feeling vulnerable . . .’
‘Do I fuck!’
He opened the car door and blew his cheeks out. ‘I rest my case. Get in.’ He held the door as she edged into the seat.
The journey home was bound to be a long one. She sat staring into the space beyond the window with silent tears rolling down her face. The weight on her chest felt physical, solid, as if she could lift it off in one piece, only she couldn’t. She knew enough about her own psychology to understand that her reaction was disproportionate to the event. Was this about Dawn’s loss again?
When they reached the Forth Road Bridge she turned and looked at Mac. His profile was calm and reassuring and she heaved a huge sigh. He stretched across and rubbed her hand briefly. There were very few men that she could tolerate the way she did Mac, and she suspected this sentiment worked in reverse. He took her straight to her own flat, and if she was honest this left her feeling a grain of disappointment.