by Tana Collins
‘I found them. Our bank statements. Six months worth. I brought them straight over. Malcolm’s working away tonight. You need to look at these and tell me what’s going on.’ With that she turned on her heel and, with a flash of blond hair, was gone.
Carruthers walked over to the kitchen still holding the statements. He poured himself a black coffee and placing his glasses on the bridge of his nose, sat in the bucket chair and started reading.
17
‘Tommy Kelly’s parents are both dead,’ said Fletcher passing Carruthers a sheet of paper. Carruthers was sitting at his desk, glasses perched on his grey head. Fletcher sat down opposite him. ‘The boy was placed in a care home in 1975,’ continued Fletcher. ‘He has five other siblings, four of whom are still alive. None of them had any contact with him after he was taken into care. I can’t find a marriage or death certificate for him and he doesn’t appear to be on the electoral register. He seems to have just disappeared.’
Carruthers’ guts twisted. Perhaps there was something in Simon Wallis’ theory after all.
‘Excellent work, Andie,’said Carruthers. ‘I expect you haven’t had time to contact Alison Stephens yet?’
Fletcher nodded. ‘Yes, I have. She’s willing to do it.’ Carruthers debated whether he should tell Fletcher about his unexpected visitor the night before but decided against it. He’d only get a row for not following procedure, which would be somewhat ironic given his recent talk with her. Still, he was pleased with Fletcher. Of late she had started to look more like her old self. She was clearly enjoying being back in to her work, which was just as well since she was an invaluable member of his team.
‘Alison Stephens,’ Fletcher continued, ‘is going to give us a hand by writing a leaflet that looks like it’s been sent from the Friends of Braidwood. It’s going to alert the community and all those who care about the site that the developers have been given permission to start digging in the woods. The leaflet will say that the digging is due to start within forty-eight hours. It’ll be popped through McBride’s door.’
‘Great stuff, Andie. We’ve already put the shits up McBride. Well, if he is our man, he’ll have a seizure when he hears that.’
‘If he did have a hand in the murder of Tommy Kelly and he thinks we may be on to him, what’s the betting he’ll try to dig up the bones and move them off the site? That is, if he can remember where the boy’s buried. It’s a long time ago. So, do we stake out McBride or Braidwood?’
Carruthers shook his head. ‘I’m banking on him wanting to get those bones, but he’s not going to do anything during the day in full potential view of the public. With two murders already on site, it’s too risky for him. He’ll have to have some sort of spade with him. Being seen with that would attract far too much attention from an already nervy public. My reckoning is he’ll leave it till dark. We’ll get Bingham’s permission to get a watch near Braidwood.’
‘OK, boss, but do you think it’ll work?’ said Fletcher.
Carruthers ran his hand through his short grey hair. ‘Only one way to find out.’
‘The thing is,’ continued Fletcher, ‘after all this time there may be no DNA linking McBride to the body, if there is a body, that is, and if we find it. Surely it’s less of a risk for him than digging for the body in the woods. I mean, let’s face it, even at night, there’s still a risk of being caught.’
There was movement in the doorway behind Fletcher. John Forrest pushed his glasses back on to the bridge of his nose. He nodded at Fletcher as he walked in to Carruthers’ office.
‘I called in that favour,’ said Forrest. ‘They’re going to get on to accessing those statements straight away.’
‘Statements?’ said Carruthers, all thoughts of having asked John Forrest for the information he’d eventually got from Anne Hunter gone from his head.
‘Bank statements for Malcolm Hunter? The ones you asked for only a few hours ago?’
‘Jim, I’ll see you a bit later,’ said Fletcher standing up. She walked towards the door.
‘OK,’ said Carruthers to Fletcher. He turned to John Forrest. ‘Christ, John, I’m sorry, I’ve managed to get hold of them myself.’
The IT expert’s eyebrows shot up.
‘Legally,’ said Carruthers. ‘It’s been so crazy I forgot to let you know. How busy are you at the moment? I’ve got another job I need doing.’
‘Was afraid you might say that.’ Forrest sighed. ‘Go on then. What is it?’
‘More of the same I’m afraid. Bank statements for a Ruiridh Fraser and Henry Noble. If you can get copies for the last six months.’
‘You know technically this isn’t my job? It’ll have to go back to the Financial Investigation Unit,’ said Forrest.
‘I know this is highly irregular but can you call in another favour from your contact there,’ said Carruthers handing him a piece of paper. ‘There’s one more thing. I don’t have her bank account details but here are the details I do have for her. Julie Coutts. Home address and pub where she works. I’m needing bank statements for her as well.’
Forrest’s brows knit together. ‘I thought you said one job. This is three.’
‘Welcome to my world,’ said Carruthers. ‘I want them all cross-referenced. We’re looking for withdrawals from Hunter’s account and deposits into any of the other three. I want highlighted anything else out of the ordinary as well. Tell them I’m not wanting council tax direct debits or electricity payments. And John?’
Forrest looked up.
‘Tell them it’s urgent.’
For the next couple of hours Carruthers busied himself catching up with his paperwork. Every so often thoughts of Jodie or his brother would crowd his head but he pushed them away. Truth was, when it came to his brother he was feeling guilty that he hadn’t been the one who’d had the heart attack.
Fletcher approached. ‘I’ve just run into Speccie. Definitely working like a demon. He’s come up trumps, too. Looks like we’ve got what we want. Two cash withdrawals going out of Malcolm Hunter’s account,’ Fletcher said, handing over the slip of paper Forrest had given her to pass on to Carruthers. ‘£3,000 on the 13th January and same amount for 15th November last year. A tidy sum.’
‘We need to know what he’s been doing with that money. He’s obviously been taking out cash so it can’t be traced.’ Carruthers already knew about the missing sums of money from the statements Anne Hunter had given him. After she’d left his cottage he’d sat up an hour puzzling over them.
‘Think we may already know what he’s been doing with it. Take a look at this.’ Fletcher handed over a handful of bank statements.
‘What’s this?’
‘Take a look at the name of the account holder. I reckon this is a bit more than a strange coincidence but regular deposits have been going into the account of Ruiridh Fraser every couple of months – approximately 15th of the month. The deposits started the same time as the withdrawals made by Hunter. Deposits are all cash.’
Carruthers looked at the statements, at the lines someone had highlighted. ‘Deposits for £1,500. Four of them.’
‘Brings the total to £6,000,’ said Fletcher. ‘Is it enough for a search warrant?’
‘There’s still no proof Hunter was being blackmailed or even that he was taking out the money for Fraser. There’s nothing that directly links the money between them.’
Carruthers’ desk phone rang. He picked it up. ‘Jim, Mackie here. The forensic results are in and we’ve found something pretty interesting.’
‘Go on,’ said Carruthers. ‘I’m all ears.’
‘You will be when you hear this. We’ve found a large quantity of sleeping pills and tranquilisers in the systems of both Noble and Fraser.’
Carruthers’ pulse quickened. ‘Zopiclone?’ There was a hopeful edge to his voice.
‘No. Lorazepam. You may have heard of it,’ Dr Mackie continued. ‘It’s a benzodiazepine. Benzodiazepines are used for their sedative and anxiety-relieving effects. They w
ork by acting on receptors in the brain called GABA receptors—’
‘OK, doc. In layman’s terms, what do I need to know?’
‘There was enough in both men’s systems to knock a racehorse out.’
‘Cause of death?’
‘No, but enough to render both men unconscious. Thought you’d want to know. Oh, one other thing which you might find useful. Lorazepam has a strong sedative effect.’
‘I know zopiclone is used for short-term sleep problems,’ said Carruthers. ‘Is lorazepam also indicated for insomnia?’
‘It’s more commonly prescribed for anxiety but can be used for sleep problems where the insomnia is caused by anxiety. But the interesting thing about lorazepam is that it’s sometimes used for criminal purposes in a manner similar to GHB. It’s also tasteless and can be crushed.’
Carruthers thanked Mackie and hung up. He sat in contemplation, stroking the whiskers on his chin. He needed a shave. Frowning, he turned to Fletcher. ‘I’m going to speak to Bingham about getting a search warrant for the Hunter place.’
‘What are we looking for?’
‘We’ve already found the zopiclone he uses. I want to know if he’s got a prescription for lorazepam.’
Fletcher raised her eyebrows.
Carruthers turned to Fletcher. ‘Both men have tested positive for lorazepam which means they were drugged before they were killed.’
Carruthers rapped on the door. ‘Is your husband in?’
Anne Hunter shook her head.
‘I’m sorry, Anne. We’ve got a search warrant to search the property.’
‘I can’t believe you people are back to do this to me again,’ she said. ‘What this time?’
‘Can you please step aside.’ Carruthers gestured for Harris and Watson to go ahead.
‘You didn’t answer my question,’ she asked.
‘Dougie, take the upper rooms,’ directed Carruthers. ‘Start with the main bathroom. Go through it and the bedrooms carefully.’
A while later Harris reappeared. ‘It’s clean. Nothing, boss.’
Anne Hunter stood, hands on hips at the foot of the stairs. ‘I don’t know what you’re expecting to find. Look, the kids are going to be home soon, and I don’t want them to find the police here again. How long are you going to be?’
Unsmiling Carruthers said, ‘I know this isn’t easy but it will take as long as it takes.’
‘That’s not an answer.’
‘We don’t always have all the answers, more’s the pity.’
Watson popped her head round. ‘Nothing downstairs, but there’s a shed in the garden, access through the kitchen.’
Carruthers turned to Anne Hunter. ‘Where’s the key for the shed?’
‘Hanging with the others in the utility room. I might as well just give you people a spare set of keys.’ She flashed him a furious look. ‘Just a moment.’
She disappeared, just to reappear a few seconds later holding a heavy brass key which she handed to Carruthers. He threw it over at Harris. Anne Hunter directed her next remark to Carruthers, ‘There’s nothing in the shed but garden tools.’
‘Gayle,’ said Carruthers, ‘go with Dougie, will you? I want a word with Mrs Hunter. Anne—’ He led her in to her sitting room.
‘What the hell’s going on?’ she demanded.
‘We’ve uncovered some information about your husband’s past. We think he spent some time in care at Braidwood.’
‘Surely he would have told me.’
‘I think there’s probably a lot about your husband you don’t know. What other drugs is your husband taking?’
‘Just zopiclone.’
‘Not lorazepam?’
‘No.’
‘You sure about that?’
‘Yes. Why?
Suddenly there was a shout from the garden. It was Watson. ‘We’ve found something. You’d better have a look at this, boss.’
Carruthers turned to Anne Hunter. ‘Excuse me.’ He strode through the kitchen, out in to the garden with a worried looking Anne Hunter trying to keep up with him.
Watson was kneeling on the ground prodding around in some charred wood and ash. ‘Boss,’ said Harris, appearing from behind the shed and indicating to where Watson was kneeling. ‘There’s been a recent bonfire. Still bits of cloth in the ashes. Nothing round the back of the shed though. I’ve checked it out.’
‘Gloves on,’ said Carruthers. ‘Help Gayle sift through the ash. Cloth might’ve been used to wipe the knife.’ Carruthers turned to Anne. ‘Does Malcolm normally light fires in the garden in winter?’
‘Well, he might if he’d been doing a big garden clear up.’
‘In the dead of winter?’
Carruthers could tell Anne Hunter was torn between trying to defend her husband and washing her hands of him after all his recent lies. Her loyalty to her family won.
‘It’s not uncommon.’
‘No, not uncommon if you’re trying to get rid of evidence of murder,’ said Carruthers.
‘I don’t know what you think you’ve found but he hasn’t murdered anyone. He hasn’t got it in him.’
‘You sure about that?’ asked Carruthers.
‘He’s not a killer.’
Carruthers took a walk to where the remnants of the fire had been. Taking a pair of latex gloves out of his pocket, he slipped them on and knelt by the charred embers. He, Watson and Harris worked in silence, sifting through the debris.
Harris picked up a piece of blackened material and held it up to Carruthers to inspect. The end of the material was untouched by the fire. It had been white cloth. He sniffed it. ‘Doesnae look like he’s burning garden waste to me.’ He pointed to a stain on the cloth. ‘Looks like a blood stain.’ He bagged the remnant.
Anne Hunter opened her mouth to speak, but, hearing the house phone ringing from the living room, she cursed and hurried back inside. Still watching for signs of her re-emerging through the kitchen door, Carruthers said, ‘We’ll get it to forensics as soon as we’re done here.’
‘I’ll call it in,’ said Watson standing up and taking her mobile out of her pocket.
Still sifting Harris said, ‘What about Hunter?’
‘Once we’ve found him, we’ll invite him in for questioning,’ said Carruthers.
‘Who’ll interview him?’ said Harris.
‘I will,’ said Carruthers. ‘I’ll get Andie to sit in with me.’
‘Aye,’ said Harris, stripped off his gloves. ‘She’s a good detective, even if she is English.’
‘There’s no place for that sort of prejudice here, Dougie. You know that.’
Harris shrugged. ‘She’ll have heard a lot worse.’ Still on his knees he lifted his head jerking it towards Watson. He sighed. ‘Anyway, just when I’ve got used to Andie now I have a dyke to contend with.’
‘I’m sure you’ll manage.’ How they manage to contend with you is another matter, thought Carruthers.
Watson finished her call. ‘We’ll get the cloth remnants off to the lab for analysis, boss. Dougie and me can take them in.’
‘While you do that I’ll swing by the station, pick up Andie,’ said Carruthers. ‘I have a hunch I know where Hunter is.’
Anne Hunter turned to Carruthers. ‘What’s going to happen now?’ Carruthers watched as Watson and Harris walked towards their car.
‘We’re going to need to bring your husband in for questioning. Any idea where he is?’
Anne Hunter shook her head. ‘None.’
Carruthers believed her.
‘You can’t bring my husband in for questioning,’ said Anne Hunter. ‘He hasn’t done anything.’
‘We have no choice,’ said Carruthers. ‘I’m needing to head off now, Mrs Hunter,’ he said. He started walking towards his own car.
Walking away back to the house Anne Hunter shouted, ‘I’m going to phone my solicitor. I want him in the interview with Malcolm.’
‘That’s fine, Mrs Hunter, Anne,’ Carruthers said. ‘Your husband
is allowed representation.’
‘I trusted you,’ she shouted as Carruthers climbed in to the driver’s seat. She had the hurt look of a ten-year-old whose birthday party has just been cancelled.
‘Perhaps you’re trusting the wrong people,’ said Carruthers, half to himself. He shut the car door smartly and drove off. He looked in the rear-view mirror to see her hurrying back indoors, presumably to make that phone call.
18
‘Any idea where Hunter is right now?’ asked Fletcher. ‘We need to find him before his wife can warn him and he does a bunk.’
Carruthers replaced his mobile in his pocket having assured himself he had no new messages. Looking up he said, ‘there’s only one place I can think of where his wife couldn’t reach him. Let’s head to Glenrothes. We’ll take a pool car.’
Unlocking the doors of one of the cars Fletcher jumped into the driver’s seat. Jim slid into the passenger seat beside her. His door was hardly closed as she shot out of the car park and down the road, the car tyres spitting up gravel behind them.
‘Any idea when forensics will have the results for us?’ she asked.
‘You know how long they take, but they’re going to fast-track it and get started as soon as Harris and Watson drop the items off. With a bit of luck, whilst we’re still interviewing Hunter.’
‘You’re very confident we’ll pick him up at Julie Coutts’.’
‘Where else would he be?’
As soon as they’d left Castletown behind and were in the open country, Fletcher picked up speed.
‘Slow down. I want us to arrive in one piece.’ A lesser man would have been gripping the handle of the car door at the sight of a young woman driving like a demon. For all that, Carruthers had to admit Fletcher was an excellent driver, even if she did drive a little too fast for his liking. She was much better behind the wheel than most of the men Carruthers knew. Harris was the worst. He had the tendency to speed up when he saw a pedestrian crossing the road in an attempt to give them a fright.