by Marion Todd
‘It’s a burner phone?’
‘Yeah. Sorry, boss. No way of tracing it.’
‘So, now we know the two women were in touch with the same person. Those of you checking WhatsApp, make sure you have that number when you speak to the group members. If anyone matches it, call me immediately.’
Clare glanced at the board again. ‘Any luck with the CCTV from that pub, Sara?’
Sara shook her head. ‘Sorry, boss. With the shoplifter yesterday, I didn’t get back to speak to them about it.’
‘Okay. Make that a priority,’ Clare said, and Sara nodded.
‘Our accounting couple,’ Clare went on. ‘The Sharps – have they matched with any of the WhatsApp group?’
Heads shook. ‘Okay,’ Clare said. ‘Now I visited Cheryl Sharp yesterday and she admitted she had called at Alison Reid’s house two days before Christmas. She claims it was to warn Alison off Miles – she implied Alison still had a thing for him.’
‘Do you believe her, boss?’ Janey asked.
‘Yes I do,’ Clare said. ‘She admitted knowing that Miles and Alison had met at lunchtime on the third of December. She followed them there in a taxi and waited while Alison spent twenty minutes in Miles’s car. So it wouldn’t be unreasonable for her to be suspicious of Alison. I think she’s mistaken but I do think she believes what she told me.’
Chris caught Clare’s eye. ‘The restaurant, Clare.’
She nodded then looked round the room. ‘Now, this next bit is completely confidential. I don’t have any proof yet and, until I do, I don’t want any of this getting back to the Sharps. Okay?’
There were murmurs of, ‘Yes boss,’ and Clare went on.
‘I’ve been looking into the proprietor of The Heron’s Nest restaurant – one Nicholas Hamilton. He was, until recently, a client of Alison Reid’s. He called in to Crossford a few weeks ago for an hour-long appointment and flew out the door after fifteen minutes. Alison later learned he’d moved his business to Sharp and Lafferty. It’s possible Hamilton asked Alison to do something questionable – tax evasion, or something like that. Either way, my guess is that Alison refused. He walks out the door in a temper and finds his way to Miles Sharp’s office. Miles, I think, would have no such scruples, particularly with a client of his ex-wife’s.’
‘Any idea what he wanted Alison to do?’ Nita asked.
‘Not yet, Nita. But Diane is working on accessing a password-protected document on Alison’s laptop. We don’t yet know what’s in the document but there must be a reason she protected it.’
Gary raised his hand. ‘Are you planning to interview Hamilton, boss?’
Clare considered this. ‘At the moment I’m not keen. If he has some connection to Alison’s death – however tenuous – I don’t want him or Miles Sharp forewarned. So, as I said, not a word about it outside this room.’
Janey said, ‘Funny thing, boss. That WhatsApp group – they were talking about a school reunion. This…’ she checked her notepad and went on, ‘this Jessica Peters, the one who mentioned Attracto – she was trying to book somewhere for a meal.’
‘And?’
‘She suggested The Heron’s Nest.’
Clare looked round the room. ‘Any thoughts on that?’
Sara said, ‘It’s a nice place, boss. Good food.’
‘Town’s full of good eateries, though,’ Gary said.
Clare nodded. ‘Fair point. Let’s just bear it in mind. There might be no connection.’ She glanced round. ‘Right, that’s it. Keep in touch.’
As the officers began to drift out of the room, Jim reminded Clare she’d promised to show him how to search images.
‘I’d like to see that too,’ Sara said, and Chris wandered over to see what Clare was about to do.
‘Okay,’ she said, sitting down at a computer. ‘Have you saved images of the three men, Jim? What are their names, by the way?’
Jim took the mouse and clicked to open the file where he’d stored the photos. ‘I’ve saved them with their usernames,’ he said. ‘So, there’s SandyD, BikerBoy and Stoneman.’
‘Right, then,’ Clare said, pulling the keyboard towards her. ‘Thankfully all three are front facing. That gives us a better chance of finding them online.’ She began typing. ‘So, first open up Google… then click up there, where it says Images.’
‘Oh,’ Sara said. ‘There’s a camera in the search box now.’
‘Right,’ Clare said, ‘now click that and upload the image.’ She demonstrated this with SandyD’s photo. Two pages of results came up, including his Attracto picture. ‘See here,’ Clare said, ‘we’ve got his Facebook page now. If I open that in a new tab you can see his name is Sandy Donaldson.’ She clicked the mouse again. ‘Go back to the results and there he is on holiday last year. I’d say that’s where his profile pic was taken. And…’ she moved the mouse to indicate another result, ‘this is from his workplace. Looks like he was giving a seminar in Stirling last October. That should be enough to let you track him down.’
Clare repeated the process with BikerBoy and a screen of results appeared. But when she ran the search with Stoneman, there were pages and pages of results. ‘Uh-oh,’ she said, ‘looks like this one’s used a fake photo. Or his photo’s been stolen.’
‘Why would anyone steal it?’ Sara asked. ‘I can’t see the point. If he arranged to meet someone, she’d know he wasn’t the man in the photo as soon as she saw him.’
‘Usually it’s criminals trying to trick people into parting with information. They use an attractive photo to create a fake persona and seek out likely targets – anyone gullible enough to believe they’re talking to the good-looking guy.’
‘Hanging’s too good for them,’ Jim said, his voice gruff. ‘Wee scumbags.’
‘No argument there, Jim.’ Clare glanced at Chris who was staring at the screen. ‘Chris? You seen this photo before?’
‘Er, no. Don’t think so. I thought he was familiar but I’m wrong.’
Clare looked at him. She was about to press him further when her phone began to ring. Diane.
‘I’ve got into your document, Clare. It’s up on the network now.’
‘Thanks so much, Diane. I’m really grateful.’
‘You’ll need the password. Got a pen?’
Clare scribbled down the password and went back to her office. She shook the mouse to bring her computer to life then navigated her way to the document. It was called In Case Required. She clicked the icon and entered the password. It opened to reveal a heading Sequence of Events, followed by a series of bullet points. Clare increased the font size and began to read.
26 Nov – appointment 11 a.m. with NH to discuss proposal for future status of restaurant. NH proposed the following:
Forming new company – Cliff Bay Consultancy – Cayman Isles – to use for general consultancy, periodic rebranding for restaurants etc.
Cliff Bay bank account to be in Zurich
NH to pay Zurich a/c for consultancy work
Possible future loans from Cliff Bay – interest free?
Serious concerns re legality. Suggested it’s aggressive tax avoidance. Unethical. NH left office.
27 Nov – rumour that NH has taken his business to Sharp and Lafferty.
27 Nov – emailed Miles re inadvisability of NH’s proposal. Miles unconcerned!
30 Nov – again emailed Miles. No response.
1 Dec – emailed Miles – asked to meet.
3 Dec – 20-minute conversation with Miles, face-to-face. Warned him HMRC will catch up eventually. Miles, as advisor, could be liable. Miles agreed to talk again to NH but stopped short of refusing to assist.
Miles now not taking my calls, no response to emails.
10 Dec – emailed AEGIS Union Rep – appointment on 6th Jan to discuss (nb check time). Need advice on my responsibilities here.
23 Dec – Cheryl Lafferty turned up at door! Suspicious about my contact with Miles. No mention of NH scheme. Suspect she doesn’t know.
/> Clare sat back considering what she’d read. Then she read it again to make sure she understood it. The plan was simple enough. Nicholas Hamilton wanted to reduce the tax he paid on restaurant takings. To do this he would create a company based in the Cayman Islands to undertake consultancy work, paying their fee to the company’s account in Switzerland. The clever part was he would own the consultancy company so, in effect, he was paying himself, creating a business expense which wasn’t taxable.
No wonder Alison Reid hadn’t been keen. Clare wasn’t even sure it was legal, never mind ethical. But it looked as if Miles Sharp was willing to give it a go. Clare had no doubt Miles would have it sewn up tightly with nothing in writing. No documentary evidence that he’d assisted Nicholas Hamilton with this. No doubt he’d tell him exactly what to do and how to do it but none of it would be written down. And, if HMRC did catch up with Hamilton, it would be his word against Miles’s. Chances are Miles would wriggle out of any blame. He was just the type.
Alison had stopped short of naming Nicholas Hamilton in her document but Clare was in no doubt he was the architect of the scheme. But was it enough to challenge him? There was no actual proof. Only this document which, Clare guessed, wouldn’t stand up in court.
She rose from her desk and went to her office door. Chris was tapping away at a keyboard. He glanced up and she motioned to him to come into her office. ‘Have a look at this.’
She waited while Chris read through Alison’s document.
‘So, we’ve got him,’ he said, looking up from the screen.
‘Miles or Hamilton? At the moment there’s no proof that either of them has done anything illegal. And we can’t prove what Alison’s written here is actually true.’
‘Well she’d hardly have written it…’
‘Yeah I know that. But this,’ she jabbed the screen, ‘it’s not enough by itself. It’s not illegal to think about doing something. I think about murdering you at least twice a week but the important thing is I haven’t done it. Not yet…’
‘Cheers for that.’
‘Chris, what was the name of that officer from Dundee? The one who helped us with the money laundering.’
‘Corinne. Corinne Sim. Want me to give her a call?’
‘It’s okay. I’ll speak to her myself. Might be the best we can do is to flag it up to the Fraud lot and leave them to it. I could be wrong but I don’t think this is what got Alison Reid killed.’
‘Yeah, probably not.’
Clare sat back in her chair and yawned. ‘How’s it going out there?’
‘Not bad. The team have got round most of the WhatsApp group. Still a few to track down.’
‘Any phone numbers match with the burner phone Alison and Ingrid were texting?’
‘Nope. Not yet at least. Tell you what though…’
‘What?’
‘One of the people they can’t get hold of is Jessica Peters – you know, the one who was trying to organise a reunion?’
‘And the one who suggested Attracto. Now that worries me, Chris.’
‘You think she’s something to do with the killings?’
‘Let’s just say I’ll be happier when we’ve tracked her down. And, when we do, I want to interview her myself – face-to-face. There’s something about her involvement in this that I don’t like.’
Chapter 30
Clare was about to pack up for the night and hand over to the Dundee Inspector when she suddenly remembered Chris’s reaction to one of the Attracto photos. She found him in the kitchen, washing his coffee mug.
‘What’s this? You suddenly become domesticated?’
‘Sara said if I didn’t start washing my own mug she’d wrap it round the back of my head.’
‘Good girl!’
‘Did you actually want something? Or is it Have-a-go-at-Chris Day?’
Clare closed the kitchen door.
Chris looked up, his face a study. ‘Detective Inspector, are you about to importune me?’
‘In your dreams, sonny. No. But there was something I wanted to ask you.’
‘Go on, then.’
‘That photo from Attracto. That guy, Stoneman – you recognised him, didn’t you?’
Chris took a moment to answer. ‘I think so,’ he said. ‘I think I’ve seen him before.’
‘Where?’
He glanced at the kitchen door then lowered his voice. ‘You know I’ve got this party arranged for next Saturday? The surprise one – for our engagement?’
‘Yeah. The Kenlybank, isn’t it?’
He nodded. ‘I think I’ve seen him there. At the hotel.’
Clare frowned. ‘A guest?’
‘No. On the staff. I was chatting to the events manager about the party. Making arrangements, you know? And he went past carrying a tray of drinks. I mean, the hotel was busy. Christmas parties and the like. But I noticed him because, well – I’m not in the market for a bloke, Clare but, if I was – he’s bloody good-looking! I was almost tempted to ask the manager to make sure he wasn’t on duty at the party.’
Clare laughed. ‘I wouldn’t worry. I’m sure Sara only has eyes for you. But all the same, that’s interesting.’
‘I mean, if this Stoneman character’s our murderer, he’d hardly be using his own photo. I reckon this poor guy’s picture’s been nicked. Well I know it has, judging by all the photos on the internet.’
‘We should probably call round, anyway. Make sure he’s legit.’
Chris’s face fell. ‘Tonight? I’ve not stopped since half seven this morning.’
Clare thought about this. ‘I suppose it can wait. I mean I doubt he’s our man. But we do need to rule him out. Tomorrow, then. And could you ask Jim to check the other two out please? SandyD and… whatever the other one was called.’
‘BikerBoy, I think,’ Chris said. ‘Will do.’
‘Come on then. Dry your mug and let’s get out of here. Fresh start in the morning.’
* * *
It was only when she’d lit the fire and flopped down on the sofa watching Ant and Dec on TV that Clare remembered the next day was Sunday. There was no way she could take the morning off for dog training and she felt something approaching relief at having a genuine excuse. It was quite exhausting being the owner of the worst behaved dog in the field – except for Ralph of course. He always managed to outdo Benjy, thank goodness. And then there was Ralph’s owner…
Maybe she could spare a few hours, after all.
She lifted the phone and dialled Chris’s number.
He answered immediately. ‘Please tell me there’s not another body,’ he said. ‘I’ve just ordered a Chinese.’
‘No, you’re okay. What are you having?’
‘Chicken fried rice.’
Although Clare was now full of her mother’s cottage pie she had a sudden longing for a Chinese takeaway. ‘I’m jealous,’ she said. ‘Enjoy.’
‘So, if it’s not a body…’
‘It’s tomorrow, Chris. Could you let the team know I’ll be in a bit late – say midday? There’s something I need to do in the morning.’
‘I thought you hated that dog training?’
Dammit, Clare thought. She’d forgotten Chris knew about it. It wasn’t really on, taking time off to go and stand in a field to be boomed at by the redoubtable Isobel. But she’d been working flat out since Alison’s body was discovered on… she couldn’t even remember which day it was now. No, it would probably do her good to have a couple of hours off. ‘It’s the trainer,’ she said. ‘She’ll make me stand in a corner if I miss a week!’
‘Aye, go on then. I’ll cover for you.’
‘Cheers Chris. Enjoy your chicken.’
Clare put down the phone and sank back into her sofa. Benjy jumped up and snuggled into her legs. On the TV Ant and Dec were dressed as traffic wardens, pretending to clamp some celebrity’s car. Clare couldn’t think who the celeb was but it was easy TV and just what she needed. After a few minutes Benjy began to snore softly and Clare
, too, closed her eyes, letting the cares of the day drift away.
Sunday, 10th January
Chapter 31
Clare could see that the fields opposite Daisy Cottage were flooded and she elected to put on her wellies, rather than her usual trail shoes. She had a new pair of dark jeans which fitted beautifully but they looked wrong against her well-worn anorak, with its pockets full of dog treats and poop bags. There was a new red Holland Cooper coat with a soft furry hood in her wardrobe. She’d hardly worn it, having bought it in the January sales last year. Even the sale price was far above what Clare would normally spend but she found the coat irresistible. She turned round, admiring it in her bedroom mirror then grabbed a new scarf – a Christmas gift from her sister – and whistled to Benjy.
It was a lovely morning. The sun was struggling above the horizon but the sky was blue and the wind light. As Clare drove along Bogward Road, swerving round puddles, she saw the first shoots of winter jasmine brightening house walls. It wouldn’t be long before the snowdrops were showing too. It had been a cold start to the year but every day that passed was a day nearer spring. As she left the town the road began to rise up and she glimpsed the North Sea. The sun was glinting off the tips of the waves which sparkled and danced in the breeze. She drove on, passing rows of green-coloured holiday homes in the St Andrews Holiday Park set high on Kinkell Braes. The road moved inland and after another mile or two she approached the field and signalled to pull in.
She was one of the first to arrive, earning a nod of approval from Isobel who was setting out marker cones.
‘Criss-cross walking today,’ she announced and Clare’s heart sank. Benjy could never manage to pass another dog without barking and jumping at it, and it was Clare’s most hated of all the activities. But at least she had Ralph’s owner to look forward to. She took up position with her back to the sun so she could see him approach. And then another woman arrived with a husky straining at the leash and Clare’s attention was taken up with trying to keep Benjy calm.
It was Benjy who spotted Ralph first. Clare was chatting to the husky’s owner who was admiring her red coat when she felt Benjy’s tail beating against her legs. She looked up and saw Ralph racing down towards the training area on an extendable lead. But it wasn’t the good-looking man who held the other end. It was an even better-looking woman. She was olive-skinned, with good hair. The kind Clare had seen in magazines like Country Living. Dark, shiny and thick, it hung down past her shoulders, the wind catching her French-girl fringe as she staggered after an ebullient Ralph. In contrast to Clare she wore a battered waxed jacket and faded blue jeans tucked into an old pair of riding boots and suddenly Clare felt ridiculously overdressed.