HUBRIS

  ‘I’m afraid not,’ said Duncan. ‘Maybe the insurance could help you out, you know, with loss of earnings and the like.’

  ‘Oh, they’ll not be bothered with that, Sergeant, just the damage to the boat and believe me, once the loss adjuster’s taken a look, I’ll still not get what’s due. Is there no way of speeding things up a wee bit? I need to get her back in the water as soon as possible.’

  ‘I’ll try,’ said West, ‘but just out of curiosity, why the rush? I mean, who’d want to sail the seven seas at this time of year?’

  ‘You’d be surprised,’ said McClusky, ‘there’s plenty a fool willing to part with their cash for a glimpse of Davy Jones’s locker.’

  ‘If you say so.’

  ‘Now, will I get you that drink? What’s it to be? Tea or coffee?’

  ‘No, you’re alright,’ said Duncan, ‘we’re not stopping.’

  ‘As you wish. So, to what do I owe the pleasure?’

  ‘We were wondering if Callum had left his car here.’

  ‘You came all the way here to ask me that?’

  ‘Amongst other things, aye.’

  ‘It’s at the bottom of the drive,’ said McClusky, ‘and it’s not moved in days.’

  ‘Mind if we take a look?’

  ‘What for?’

  ‘Nothing important.’

  ‘Here,’ said McClusky as he tossed them the keys. ‘Be sure to lock it when you’re done. Heaven knows where the lad’s got to.’

  West leaned against the door, slipped her hands into her pockets, and smiled.

  ‘He’s feeling better then, is he?’

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘Callum. The flu.’

  ‘Oh aye, the flu! Aye, much better, it’s kind of you to ask.’

  ‘No worries,’ said West, ‘although I have to say, he’s still looking a bit peaky.’

  ‘Peaky? So you’ve seen him?’

  ‘Yup. Several times. He’s been asking for you.’

  ‘Well, where on earth is he?’

  ‘He’s at our place. In a cell. He’s been arrested.’

  McClusky wrestled himself from the confines of the chair, ran his fingers through his thick, grey locks, and scratched the back of his head.

  ‘Sorry,’ he said with a frown. ‘I’m confused, Inspector. Arrested? What for?’

  ‘Long story,’ said West. ‘I’ll tell you on the way. So, do you want to see him or not?’

  As an experienced con well-versed in the underhand tactics of the local constabulary, Tam McClusky, unsettled by the fact that two detectives had travelled sixty odd miles to simply offer him a lift, was wily enough to spot a ruse when he saw one but concluded, nonetheless, that to decline such an offer, would only arouse their suspicion.

  ‘I suppose I better had,’ he said. ‘I’ll fetch my coat. Just one thing, Inspector, if he’s been arrested, then why did he not phone?’

  ‘Dunno,’ said West, ‘but if it’s any consolation, he refused a brief as well. You can ask him when we get there.’

  * * *

  West, waiting by the patrol car, seized the opportunity to make a discreet call while McClusky, fumbling with his keys, double-locked the front door.

  ‘Are you not coming, Sergeant?’

  ‘I am,’ said Duncan, ‘but I need a wee peek at Callum’s motor first. I’ll be along shortly, don’t you worry.’

  Unperturbed by the relentless downpour, Duncan, ambling along the drive like a pensioner out for a Sunday stroll, waited until they’d slipped from view before turning on his heels and dashing back to the house where he began his search by leafing through the ledger McClusky had proudly displayed moments earlier before discarding it, on the grounds that they’d require the services of a graphologist to decipher the handwriting.

  Faring no better as he poked around the pigeonholes, which, belying their intended use as a receptacle for mail, messages, and memoranda, had been stuffed with an assortment of cobweb-coated snacks and savouries – including a half-eaten Tunnock’s teacake, a stale packet of fig rolls, and several empty crisp packets – he turned his attention to the row of six drawers and, working left to right, began systematically sifting his way through each in turn when, frustrated at finding nothing more than a raft of receipts, used betting slips, and a bundle of IOUs from needy neighbours, he froze with his hand on the fifth, unnerved by a hefty bang on the door.

  Wielding his warrant card to ward off anyone brave enough to question the presence of an unshaven scruff in McClusky’s house, he yanked it open and gazed quizzically at a weary-looking gent toting an aluminium attaché case.

  ‘Bob Keane,’ he said. ‘Your DI just called.’

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘Scenes of crimes.’

  ‘Oh, smashing!’ said Duncan as he handed him the key. ‘It’s a wee white van at the bottom of the drive. Did she tell you what to look for?’

  ‘Aye, same as before.’

  ‘Well, on you go. Give me a shout when you’re done.’

  With his expectations of finding anything incriminating dwindling at a rate of knots, Duncan, his patience wearing thin, returned to the office, opened the fifth drawer and, retrieving three sets of keys, began to wonder if McClusky, not one to declare his business interests, was running a letting agency on the side.

  Dismissing them as spares for the house, the garage, and possibly Callum’s car, he tossed them back in the drawer, dropped to his knees and opened the double doors to the cupboard beneath where, dismayed at the amount of tat one man could hoard, he began ferreting through the contents of two large shoeboxes containing a variety of Christmas baubles, a string of fairy lights, and a handful of leaking batteries before opening each and every case of a ridiculously large collection of antiquated VHS cassettes, his efforts interrupted by the sound of Bob Keane hollering from the hallway.

  ‘That’s me,’ he said. ‘I’ll leave you to it.’

  ‘No danger,’ said Duncan, ‘did you get what we need?’

  ‘Aye, fluff off the seat. I’d say it’s the same as the fibres I got from the other fella’s car. I’ll send them to FS for confirmation.’

  ‘Magic! I’ll give Westy a bell and let her know. Anything else?’

  ‘Only this,’ said Keane, waving a plastic pouch. ‘It’s a wee piece of upholstery from a tear in the seat.’

  ‘Will we get anything off it?’

  ‘Don’t hold your breath,’ said Keane, ‘it’s worth a shot but to be honest I reckon the only thing FS will tell you is that it came from a Volkswagen.’

  Returning to the bureau, Duncan, confounded by the fact that neither the boxes nor the tapes would fit back inside the cupboard, paused as the word ‘Volkswagen’ rang in his ears, leapt to his feet, and took the car key from the drawer.

  Baffled by the Toyota logo on the fob, he reached for the other sets, laid them side by side and, frowning as if trying to solve another of Munro’s cryptic conundrums, stared at the lucky rabbit’s foot on one, and the red, Spanish beer logo on the other.

  ‘Oh, you dancer!’ he said, grinning as the penny dropped.

  Trying his best to contain his excitement, he pulled open the sixth drawer and, his mood lifted by the sight of two padded brown envelopes, stuffed everything into his pockets, raced outside, and fired up the Audi.

  ‘Dougal!’ he said, yelling at the phone as he skidded down the street. ‘Is Westy back yet?’

  ‘Not yet, pal. What’s the story?’

  ‘Tell her she’s to arrest McClusky, then do nothing till I get back, have you got that? Do nothing till I get back!’

  Chapter 20

  Relying on instinct rather than cold, hard facts, Munro – blessed with the patience of a saint – was used to stalking his prey with the steadfast resolve of a grand master in a title tournament whilst Dougal, cut from the same cloth, displayed the composure of a sated sloth as he waited for the trout to bite, whereas West, irascible by nature, would snap at the slightest hint of a delay to her schedule, especially if Ub
er Eats were involved.

  ‘What’s keeping him?’ she said, pacing the floor. ‘He should’ve been here by now!’

  ‘All good things come to those who wait,’ said Munro, sarcastically.

  ‘He’s right,’ said Dougal. ‘Some things in life are worth–’

  ‘Oh, shut up, the pair of you! This is doing my nut in!’

  ‘Well, I suggest we do something to take your mind off matters,’ said Munro. ‘A wee game perhaps. I spy with my little eye–’

  ‘I don’t believe I’m hearing this.’

  ‘–something beginning with “L”.’

  ‘Well, it’s definitely not lunch.’

  ‘It’s lamp. Dougal, your turn.’

  ‘I spy with my little eye something beginning with “T”.’

  ‘Good idea,’ said West. ‘Stick the kettle on.’

  ‘It’s terrier, miss.’

  ‘It’ll be traction if you don’t pack it in.’

  ‘Are you lot arguing again?’ said Duncan, grinning as he barged through the door. ‘You’re like a bunch of weans!’

  ‘Where have you been?’

  ‘As the chief would say, I went to fetch some nails.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘For somebody’s coffin. Did you not get my message? Have you arrested McClusky?’

  ‘Yes I have! And by the way,’ said West, ‘you’ll be pleased to know Jimbo was right.’

  ‘No change there, then. Right about what, exactly?’

  ‘Tam McClusky,’ said West. ‘He’s Rhona’s father.’

  ‘Dear, dear, and I thought I had a chequered past.’

  ‘On the downside, though, the prints in her bathroom belong to her and Alex Dunbar. Not a single set belong to Callum but the DNA on the blade does.’

  ‘Which proves he was stabbed in her bathroom. So, prints aside, do we have enough to charge him?’

  ‘Almost,’ said West. ‘All we need to prove now is that she was with him in his car.’

  ‘Job done,’ said Duncan. ‘Your pal, Keane, the SOCO, he got some fibres off the passenger seat. He reckons they’re the same as the ones he lifted from Dunbar’s motor.’

  ‘Yes! Back of the net!’ said West, punching the air. ‘Right, listen up, we know he was involved with Rhona Baxter, we’ve got fibres from her sweater in his car, and we’ve got his hair and tissue samples from beneath her fingernails. On top of that, he still refuses to tell us where he was on the night she disappeared, so I say we go ahead and charge him. Anyone say otherwise?’

  ‘No, no. I’d say you’re on the money there,’ said Duncan. ‘Besides, the clock’s ticking, we need to do it soon.’

  ‘Good. Dougal, you do the honours. Nip downstairs then get cracking on the report for the fiscal.’

  ‘Aye, aye, miss.’

  ‘What about Alex Dunbar?’ said Duncan. ‘Is he on his way in?’

  ‘No,’ said West. ‘I’ve thought the better of it. He’s not the strongest of characters, if we give him the once over here it’ll probably break him in two, so I’ll drive over later and have a friendly word in his shell-like.’

  ‘But if he stabbed Callum McClusky,’ said Dougal, ‘then should we not do him for ABH?’

  ‘We’d need McClusky to press charges for that,’ said West, ‘and frankly, I can’t see that happening anytime soon.’

  ‘How no?’

  ‘Because, you dodo, he’d be incriminating himself! It’d be like admitting he was in her house and he still denies all knowledge of her. Besides, even if he did want to do it, I’ll make sure Dunbar enters a plea of self-defence. I just need to hear what he’s got to say for himself first. Right, come on, what did you get at McClusky’s gaff?’

  Oblivious to the question, Duncan wandered to the kitchenette, took a mug from the cupboard, and flicked the kettle on.

  ‘Oi!’ said West. ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’

  ‘Making a brew. I’ve not stopped all day, and I’ve still not had my lunch yet.’

  ‘Well nor have we! Come on, spit it out!’

  Duncan walked to the table, reached for his inside pocket, and produced the two padded envelopes.

  ‘I give you exhibits A and B,’ he said as he pushed them towards her. ‘One marked “Henry”, the other, “Jack”. Each envelope contains exactly one thousand pounds in used twenties.’

  ‘And these were in his office?’

  ‘Aye. In the drawer he couldn’t wait to close when we arrived.’

  ‘So, what do you reckon?’

  ‘Well,’ said Duncan, ‘if Jack and Henry were chartering the boat as they claimed, then McClusky’s hardly likely to be paying them for the privilege, is he? No, no, I’d say it’s their fee for services rendered.’

  West flashed him a wink and smiled.

  ‘Lunch,’ she said, ‘is on me. Whatever you want. Egg, bacon–’

  ‘Hold on,’ said Duncan, ‘by the time I’ve finished, it’s a table at Cecchini’s I’ll be needing.’

  Munro, watching the performance like a proud parent at a prize-giving ceremony, smiled as Duncan pulled up a chair, swung his feet to the desk, and dangled the three sets of keys before them.

  ‘These,’ he said, ‘are the nails I referred to earlier.’

  ‘I’m listening.’

  ‘Okay, as we know, Tam McClusky no longer drives but Callum does. He’s got a wee van he uses for delivering fish.’

  ‘I know,’ said West. ‘You can smell it up the road.’

  ‘Aye, but here’s the thing,’ said Duncan, as he waved the fob, ‘this is for a Toyota. Callum McClusky drives a Volkswagen Caddy.’

  West, unimpressed, stared at Duncan and raised her eyebrows.

  ‘So, it’s an old key,’ she said, ‘big deal. I’ve got stacks of them.’

  ‘Do you remember that big, white pick-up Jack and Henry Boyd were hosing down outside their house?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Do you remember the make?’

  ‘I didn’t look,’ said West. ‘I was too busy waiting for them to burst into song.’

  ‘Well, it’s a Hilux, miss. A Toyota Hilux.’

  West took a seat beside him, cocked her head, and frowned.

  ‘So,’ she said as she inspected the key, ‘what you’re implying is–’

  ‘Aye, exactly!’ said Duncan. ‘I reckon McClusky owns the pick-up and the Boyds used it when they were on the job.’

  ‘Alright, I’ll go with that,’ said West. ‘We’ll have to check it out, but I’ll go with it for now. What about the house keys?’

  Duncan glanced furtively at Munro and cleared his throat.

  ‘Okay,’ he said, holding up the first set, ‘tell me if you think I’m losing the plot here, but what do you make of this?’

  Dougal leaned forward, squinting as he scrutinised the faded gold and red logo on the metal fob.

  ‘Estrella Damm,’ he said. ‘Damm’s the oldest brewery in Spain and Estrella is probably their best-selling beer.’

  ‘Aye. And what does estrella mean?’

  ‘Oh, that’s genius!’ said Dougal. ‘Pure genius.’

  ‘What is?’ said West.

  ‘Estrella, miss! It means star, and the Boyds live on Star Street.’

  ‘Give me strength! That’s pushing it a bit, isn’t it? Don’t tell me you’ve got a connection between the Boyds and a lucky rabbit’s foot as well?’

  ‘No, no,’ said Duncan. ‘It’s nothing to do with the Boyds. And it’s not a rabbit’s foot, miss. It’s Lendalfoot.’

  ‘Okay, I’ve heard enough,’ said West. ‘It’s high time you got some food, a lack of sustenance is obviously playing havoc with your imagination.’

  Munro shook his head and smiled.

  ‘I’m disappointed, Charlie,’ he said, chuckling to himself.

  ‘You what?’

  ‘You! You should know better! See here, lassie, McClusky’s no fool. He’s like a fox. He’s clever, aye, but he’s cunning too. Deceitful. And if you want to catch a fox
, then you have to think like a fox. I say hats-off to Duncan.’

  ‘Sorry,’ said West, ‘am I missing a trick here? I still don’t get it.’

  ‘Listen, Charlie, McClusky’s not going to do something as stupid as writing the names on the keys, is he? All he’s needing is a visual cue to differentiate between the sets. Something only he will understand. To someone like yourself, those wee trinkets are nothing more than a keepsake from his travels, and let’s face it, it’s not exactly difficult to put his theory to the test, is it?’

  ‘Alright!’ said West, surrendering her hands. ‘You win! Have it your way. We’ll look for the pick-up first and see if it fires up with that key. Then we’ll run over to the Baxter’s place later this afternoon and give their door a try.’

  ‘What about the Boyds’ place?’ said Dougal. ‘On Star Street?’

  ‘No rush just now,’ said West, ‘besides, it’s flipping miles away and we need to interview Tam McClusky, his brief should be here by now.’

  ‘Can we not have some lunch first?’ said Duncan. ‘Will I order us some pizza?’

  ‘I’ll take mine plain,’ said Munro, ‘with a thin crust, mind.’

  ‘And I’ll have an American!’ boomed DCI Elliot as he squeezed his voluminous frame through the door. ‘A stuffed crust with extra pepperoni! And get them to throw some of that spicy chicken on the top as well.’

  ‘George!’ said Munro with a smile. ‘Is a walk along the corridor a part of your exercise routine these days?’

  ‘Jest if you will,’ said Elliot, ‘but it’s a terrible thing to be burdened with a metabolism like mine. Actually, I’m here for a reason. Charlie, I hear you’ve arrested Thomas McClusky.’

  ‘Blimey, news travels fast.’

  ‘Well, I hope you know what you’re doing. Put a foot wrong and he’ll hang you out to dry.’

  ‘Have some faith,’ said Munro. ‘She knows what she’s doing.’

  ‘I’m not convinced,’ said Elliot. ‘Charlie, does the word “jurisdiction” mean anything to you? McClusky lives in Dumfriesshire.’

  ‘With all due respect, sir,’ said West, ‘his boat, the Thistledonia, ran aground on our patch. Aron Jónsson was found dead on our patch. And Rhona Baxter was murdered on our patch. I’d say we’re in the clear.’