‘No, there isn’t,’ the DI agreed. ‘I don’t think you’re going to get any further online, Jackie. The time’s come to face them both up, him and Marlon Watson Junior. You and the DS can go and see Gayle, once he and I have finished with Mr Patrick Booth.’ He glanced across at Haddock. ‘Are you ready for that, Sauce? The front desk just buzzed me to say that he’s here.’
‘Oh yes,’ his colleague replied, firmly. ‘Am I ever ready. If he needs to go to the toilet, can it be me that takes him?’
‘No, chum, I’m pulling rank. There were two of us facing that gun, remember, and you’ve already had one whack at him.’
He realised that Wright was staring at him, as if she was taking them seriously. ‘It’s all right, Jackie,’ he said. ‘If he needs to go, his lawyer gets to stand outside the door to protect us against any later claims that he was duffed up.’
‘Karen Neville told me that his right hand’s in stooky,’ Haddock pointed out. ‘She might need to go in and help him.’
The two investigators headed for the door, and walked downstairs to the interview room at the rear of the building. When they arrived, they saw the head of CID standing outside, waiting for them.
‘Afternoon, ma’am,’ Pye greeted her.
‘Sammy, Sauce,’ she responded, curtly. ‘I thought I’d brief you on the first interview. McGurk did a good job. He handled our Miss Birtles well too. As I thought, they tried to turn it against you two, but he wasn’t having any of that. That strand of the investigation’s pretty well locked up.’
‘Plea to a reduced charge?’ the DI ventured.
She nodded.
‘Pleas to everything, I hope,’ Haddock muttered.
Chambers treated him to one of her rare chuckles. ‘It’s all right, Sauce. Police assault stays in.’
‘Did he say anything at all that had implications for our interview?’ Pye asked.
‘Only that he was scared of the people in his drug chain, but that’s not a line for you to pursue.’
‘What if he brings it up? I don’t like being constrained in any interview, ma’am, least of all a murder investigation, when I’m the SIO. I don’t want to speak out of turn, but we both know that I was given that role over the head of Superintendent Mackenzie, and that he’ll be waiting for me to screw up.’
‘I don’t know any of that,’ Chambers retorted. ‘David Mackenzie’s the city CID coordinator; he straddles all Edinburgh investigations, but he was never meant to lead any of them. He’d be doing what I’m doing with Booth, if he was available.’
‘Where is he anyway, ma’am?’ Haddock asked.
‘Having time off for personal issues . . . that’s if it’s any business of yours, young man.’
‘Sorry, boss; it’s not,’ he conceded.
‘No.’ She looked back at the DI. ‘Sammy, I hear what you’re saying about being handcuffed in there. All that I’m saying is that you’re investigating the murder of Bella Watson, not Patrick Booth the drug dealer. I’ll trust you to play it by ear. If something comes up that might help the drugs investigators, it’ll be all right to follow it up as long as it doesn’t obscure the main issue. I won’t interfere unless I feel I have to; if I do, it’ll be a tap on the shoulder, that’ll be all.’
‘Okay, that’s fair enough,’ Pye said. ‘Let’s get at it.’
He led the trio into the room. As they entered, Frances Birtles looked past him and focused on Haddock. ‘Hello, Sauce,’ she greeted him. ‘I heard you were climbing the ladder.’ She glanced at Chambers. ‘Watch out for snakes, though.’
‘They’re all on your side of the table, Frankie,’ he replied amiably. ‘Good to see you, though.’ His bonhomie vanished as soon as he took his seat facing Patrick Booth. ‘But not you,’ he added.
The prisoner brandished his plastered hand. ‘See what you done?’
‘Yeah,’ the DS murmured, evenly, ‘and I saw what you done too, what you did to that poor lass Vicky.’ He looked into his eyes and was pleased to see him flinch.
‘I never meant to.’
‘Leave it out, both of you,’ Pye snapped. ‘That has nothing to do with our business here. Sauce, set up the recorder.’ As soon as the machine was loaded and active, he went through the formalities. ‘Mr Booth,’ he continued, ‘you’re here to help us with our inquiries into the murder of Isabella Spreckley or Watson. Do you understand that?’
‘He does,’ Frankie Bristles replied. ‘He also understands that he’s here voluntarily, and that he can terminate this interview at any time.’
The DI nodded. ‘Up to a point, but we’ll get there later.’
‘Pardon?’ the solicitor exclaimed, but he ignored her.
‘Can you tell us your relationship to the deceased, Mr Booth?’
‘Aye,’ Booth said, ‘she was Vicky’s auntie.’
‘Vicky being Victoria Riley, the late Victoria Riley, your partner?’
‘Aye.’ He paused. ‘I only knew her as Bella Spreckley, though, no’ Watson. Ah met her first at Vicky’s granny’s place, a couple of times after that.’
‘Did you ever visit her at her home in Caledonian Crescent?’
‘Mmm. It was a nice wee flat, well kitted out. Vicky said it wasnae hers, but that some old boyfriend had set her up in it.’
‘Why did you visit her?’
‘Ah went to collect Vicky and wee Susan: that’s our bairn.’ He glanced to his left, towards his lawyer. ‘Where is Susan anyway? I want tae see her. Make them let me see her, Miss Brittles.’
Haddock chuckled. ‘That’s a new variation on your name, Frankie. I’m sure you’ll explain to your client that since he’s been charged with shooting her mother dead, and that the child was in the room at the time, and got blood splattered on her, that might not happen any time soon.’
‘He has a point, Patrick,’ she admitted. ‘Let’s deal with this and I’ll see what I can do later.’
‘Aye all right,’ Booth grumbled.
‘Very good,’ Pye continued. ‘How often did you visit her?’
‘Just the once, in February; Vicky took the bairn, to let her see her. No’ that she was all that interested. Vicky only done it ’cos her granny told her to.’
‘That would be Susan Coulter, yes?’
‘Aye, that’s right; Bella and she were brought up together. Bella wasnae Vicky’s real auntie, ken.’
‘So you just paid that one visit, right? Is that what you’re saying?’
‘To the best of his recollection, Inspector.’
He smiled at the lawyer. ‘With respect, Frankie, your client doesn’t seem like a complete idiot. He says he visited her for the first time in February. I accept that, because a neighbour had to tell him what floor Miss Spreckley lived on. That was seven months ago, tops. I’m sure that if he’d been there again since then, he’d know for sure. Isn’t that right, Mr Booth?’
‘Aye, that’s right, just the once.’
‘And you only went to pick up Vicky and Susan.’
‘That’s right.’
‘Did you like Miss Spreckley?’
‘Like her?’ Booth repeated. ‘There wasnae a lot to like about Bella. She might have been an old dear, but she was as hard as fuckin’ nails, you could tell that. So no, Ah didnae like her.’
‘Did she like you?’
‘Bella didnae like anybody, apart from auld Susan.’
Frances Birtles leaned forward. ‘Where are we going with this, Sammy?’ she asked.
‘Here,’ he replied, then reached into the right-hand pocket of his jacket, which was bulging.
‘I’m showing Mr Booth,’ he continued, for the tape, ‘a sealed plastic evidence envelope. It contains an ornamental jewel box.’ He held it up, then placed it on the table, never taking his eyes from the other man, watching as his face contorted into a frown that was almost a grimace and as he hunched forward. ‘I’m not going to open it, but I’m going to show you an image of an item that we found inside.’
He took a photograph from t
he same pocket and put it beside the box. ‘It’s a gold locket and it bears the inscription “To Bella from Tony”. It’s hallmarked and we’ve been able to establish that it was bought from Laing the Jeweller, in Edinburgh, seventeen years ago, by Mr Tony Manson. He was a heavy-duty criminal, and he and Bella had a relationship. The date of purchase suggests that this was a birthday present.’
The DI paused and looked at Birtles, half-expecting her to intervene, but she stayed silent.
‘This box and its contents were found in your home, Mr Booth, during the execution of a search warrant relating specifically to this investigation. You’ve just said that you only visited the victim’s home once, and then only briefly. Let’s just take it for granted that she didn’t give it to you in a grand gesture, or give it to Vicky, who wasn’t really her niece. Let’s save ourselves some time by you admitting that you stole it. Yes?’
Finally Frankie Bristles did open her mouth, but he stopped her with an upraised hand.
‘He must respond,’ he said. ‘Either way, a one-word answer is all I need.’
Booth stared at the tabletop, and sighed heavily.
‘Aye, okay. I stole it.’
‘Right. Let me suggest two more things. One, if you stole it on that visit in February, there was no way that Miss Spreckley wouldn’t have noticed its absence in all the time since. Two, she was not the sort of woman who’d have written it off to experience. “As hard as fucking nails,” you said. Well, actually, we know that. So, Patrick, that leads us to the conclusion that I’m going to put to you now. You stole it after you killed her.’
He shook his head, violently. ‘No,’ he whispered, ‘no, no, no.’
‘Inspector,’ Birtles began, trying to intervene again, but her client overrode her, finally meeting Pye’s gaze.
‘Ah took it, but Ah didnae kill her.’
‘Then who did, if not you?’
‘Don’t ask me. All that Ah can tell you is that I didn’t. Okay, Ah went back to her house again, but she wisnae there.’
‘How did you get in?’
‘From the street? Ah got in along wi’ a neighbour.’
‘No, into the flat,’ Haddock said. ‘If Bella wasn’t there, how did you get in?’
Booth stared at him, scornfully. ‘Please,’ he retorted. ‘There was only a Chubb lock on the door. No problem.’
‘But if she wasn’t there,’ he paused, ‘why did you go in?’
‘Ah needed to see her.’
‘So badly that you broke into her house?’ Pye exclaimed. ‘Come on, Patrick, you went there to rob her, and you wound up killing her.’
‘Sammy,’ the lawyer protested, ‘you’ve got no evidence of that.’
‘Don’t be naive, Frankie,’ he laughed. ‘I’ve got the jewel box in his house, I’ve got him agreeing that he took it, and I’ve got him describing how he broke into the dead woman’s flat. We’re still doing DNA analysis, but now that I’m able to take a sample from your client, I’ll put him in the room where she was killed. I’d go to trial on that. Would you fancy your chances of an acquittal?’
‘A jury might look for more proof of murder.’
‘That would be a jury of fifteen people, with a majority verdict acceptable to the judge. You reckon you could persuade eight of them to see it your way?’
‘It’s happened before. There is a Not Proven verdict available remember.’
‘Sure.’ He turned his attention back to the prisoner. ‘There you have it, Patrick, a frank assessment of your chances, from your own lawyer: they are not good. I can charge you with murder now and walk out of here. By the time you get to trial your list of convictions will include culpable homicide, police assault and firearms offences, on top of everything else, and so the six or seven years you’re looking at now, allowing for parole, will go up to, oh, I’d say a minimum of twenty. D’ you fancy that?’
‘Ah didnae kill her!’ Booth shouted, so loudly that even Chambers, seated away from the table, reacted.
Birtles put a hand on his arm but he shook her off. ‘Ah needed tae see her because she was my contact for the gear, okay? She had been for a few months, ever since we started dealing.
‘That day in February when I was at her house she asked me if I was up for some business: high-quality crystal meth, no’ smack, or cocaine, from a small supplier, no’ a cartel, low profile, low risk. Ah said I was, and we got started.’
‘Patrick!’ Birtles snapped a warning.
‘Shut the fuck up!’
‘Sammy,’ the DI heard Chambers murmur. He leaned forward as if to avoid a tap on his shoulder.
‘Ah met Bella once a month,’ Booth continued, ‘in a different place every time, tae give her the take. She’d give me my cut, and take the rest.
‘She never handled the gear, though. I always picked that up, also once a month, from somebody else, a driver in a van wi’ Spanish plates. It had all sorts in it: household stuff, like, furniture, computers, suitcases. Sometimes it was full, sometimes near empty.
‘Bella always told me where tae go, and it could be anywhere. One time it was Wigan, the next Scunthorpe, the next Stoke; anywhere . . . but never big cities, Ah noticed that, and never in Scotland. Anyhow, the system worked fine until last month.
‘Ah was supposed tae meet Bella in the Seabird Centre in North Berwick, but she never turned up. Afterwards Ah realised there was a big problem. I had the supply Ah’d picked up in Durham a couple of weeks before that but the source would be out a month’s money, and Ah don’t have to tell you how well that goes down wi’ these people.’
He stared at Pye and Haddock, looking for affirmation. The DS nodded. ‘Go on,’ he whispered.
‘That’s why Ah went tae see Bella,’ Booth said, ‘to find out where the fuck she’d been and gie her the money but when Ah got in, there was blood all over the kitchen.
‘I was shitting myself at that, I tell you. All Ah could think of was that Bella had been skimming off the take and that the folk up the chain had done her for it. So Ah took what I could, the jewel box and a few quid she had lying about, then got the hell out of there.
‘Ah thought it would be me next, no kiddin’. I started packin’ all the time. That’s why Ah had the gun when Ah walked intae the house. When Ah found your guys . . . aye, okay, Vicky shouted that they were polis, but tae me they could have been anybody. I thought my turn had come.
‘That’s what happened, honest. Ah never killed Bella, and Ah never meant tae kill Vicky either.’
He stopped, then sagged in his chair as if exhausted. Pye allowed the silence to linger for a while, and the tension abate.
‘What happened to the money?’ he asked, when he was ready.
‘Well, Ah didnae leave it there, did Ah?’ Booth exclaimed. ‘I took it away and put it back in ma hoose, in a bag behind the bath panel.’
The DI paused again, to absorb what he had been told.
‘For the sake of this discussion,’ he resumed, after a while, ‘let’s say I buy into that. Miss Birtles is bound to advise you to cooperate with the drugs squad. Frankly, so would I, but my job is still to find out who killed Miss Spreckley, whatever the motive.
‘So, leaving other issues aside, is there anything you can tell me about the flat that might help me do that? Take all the time you need to think about it. Remember, all you’ve done so far is spun me a story. Years of your life could still be hanging on what you say to me.’ He paused. ‘Would you like a coffee? I could probably use one.’
Booth nodded.
‘Me too, if you’re buying,’ Frankie Birtles said. ‘Can I have five minutes with my client?’
‘Yes, but not alone, unless he’s cuffed; I’m responsible for your safety and he is a dangerous man.’
‘I don’t believe he is, Inspector, but okay, you can have a uniform in the room.’
Chambers, Pye and Haddock withdrew, leaving a constable behind with instructions to watch over the pair, but forget any conversation he might hear. In the corridor, af
ter the DS had been despatched to fetch four coffees and a diet Sprite, the head of CID . . . who was on a weight-loss campaign . . . leaned close to the DI.
‘That was okay in there,’ she said, ‘as it turned out. You can hand a copy of that tape to the drugs team, and they’ll thank you for it, but sunshine, you came close to ignoring an order. A nice conviction here will do your promotion prospects no harm, but crossing me could have the opposite effect.’
‘I know, boss,’ Pye conceded, ‘but I could see his eyes, and you couldn’t. I knew he was going to give up everything he had.’
The DCS nodded, then winked at him. ‘And you were right, you jammy bugger. What do you make of this supply chain he talked about? Ice, he said, methamphetamine, not heroin. That was news to me; our drugs team are going to hear about it too. They never bloody told me! They never mentioned any money either. If Booth’s telling the truth, they’ve either found it and not said, or it’s still bloody there! Either way,’ she growled, ‘somebody’s in trouble.’
Pye shrugged. ‘They’re on a separate investigation, boss, as everyone keeps hammering home. Obviously they didn’t see the need to share.’
‘They share everything with me, like you do. Them’s the rules. Well, fuck ’em,’ Chambers declared. ‘You keep that tape to yourself for a while, Sammy. If Bella’s death is linked to drugs, your investigations have crossed paths. You’ve made progress, they haven’t, so you carry the ball.’ She flexed her square shoulders, shaking out stiffness. ‘What do you think?’ she asked.
‘About the chain? Methamphetamine’s not like Class A opiates. It’s synthesised, it’s highly addictive, and it’s fashionable. It’s quite plausible that someone with the know-how could set up a wee factory in a quiet place and operate under the radar. The next step in the investigation is to get as much as I can out of Booth, then see if we can find that van driver.’
‘How?’
‘We’ll have dates and locations of the pick-ups. That’ll be a start.’
‘True,’ she agreed, just as Haddock returned with a tray, looking miffed by his relegation to coffee boy. She read his expression and smiled. ‘Good for the soul, Sauce,’ she said, as she opened the interview room door for him.
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