by Ed James
“Okay?” Raven nodded. “DS Laing, can you give us an update on the son’s ex-wife?”
Laing shrugged. “Looks like she checks out, sir. She’s been in Majorca this week and last. Won the holiday through a golf club raffle or something. Local Cumbria Police are doing secondary checks on the story but it looks sound.”
“Could she have paid for a hit?”
Laing shook his head. “No way, sir — she’s skint. She’s not paying for a killing without selling a kidney. We’re sifting through her bank statements this morning and early indications are no funny business.”
“You heard back from Mr Scott’s daughter?”
“Aye, sir. Went into a police station in Melbourne last night with her passport. She’s not involved.”
Greig looked around the room. “That’s where we’re at just now. Any questions?”
The room remained silent.
Raven glowered at Forrester. “David, do you want to give us an update on your case?”
Forrester nodded. “There were a couple of areas where we made some solid progress yesterday. First, we’ve made some inroads in interviewing the owners of black saloons spotted near Dryburgh Industrial Estate. We’ve spoken to over forty people, obtaining alibis in every case so far. We’ve also discovered what appears to be a first crime perpetrated by this group in August last year. A farmer out by Edzell in deepest, darkest Angus was trapped in a snare. He spotted a black car with three people inside.”
Raven sniffed. “I thought Pask told you to stop finding new cases, David.”
“It’s an unsolved, sir, so it’ll tick another crime off the list.” Forrester shrugged. “Anyway, it fits. The guy had a bit of ‘flame war’ in The Courier ten years ago with a lecturer at Abertay. She died not long after.”
“What about the other stuff, David?”
“The alibis of Sandy and Polly Muirhead collapsed.” Forrester licked his lips, eyes focused on Raven. “We’ve let them go and were instructed to cease all surveillance activities. Marianne Smith remains in custody, however.” He checked a sheet of paper, snapping it in the air. “We’ve got the forensics back from Hunter’s Farm. We’d found a hair in the particular barn in the battery hen farm where the family were trapped. Unfortunately, the DNA doesn’t match anything we’ve got on record, including Marianne Smith.”
“What about Polly Muirhead?”
“As we haven’t arrested her, sir, we don’t have her DNA on record.”
Raven scowled. “Anything else, David?”
“No, sir.”
Raven stared at MacDonald. “Mac, how’s your investigation into the links going?”
“Neither proved nor disproved a link, sir. Only thing linking them is the Taser. Got a call-out with a ballistics expert in Glasgow. She’ll hopefully assist in identifying whether we’re dealing with the same weapon. Should point out that in the other cases there’s no possibility of the device being used to harm the victim. Appears to be the secondary cause of death with Mr Scott, but I’ve not read the post mortem yet.”
“Cheers, Mac.” Raven folded his arms. “You should all know we’ve received a further warning from the group yesterday. DS Dodds discovered a note at the Fixit store on the Kingsway, warning of further reprisals if the birds of prey aren’t removed from display.” He sniffed. “Well, we’ve had the reprisals. Vicky?”
“I attended the crime scene at the store this morning. The manager, one Graeme Christie, was chained up in the birds display and left overnight.” She cleared her throat, conscious of how cracked her voice sounded. “His condition has stabilised and he’s been taken to Ninewells. We’re pretty much filling a ward there now.” She flashed a photocopy of the latest note across the room. “We received this — it’s another warning. ‘You’ve got till lunchtime. You’ve seen what we can do.’”
Raven took a deep breath. “We’ve no idea what this threat is. Were it not for a shelf stacker at Asda, we could’ve had another death on our hands with Mr Christie.”
MacDonald raised a hand. “Why didn’t we stop this? Surely we could’ve shut the stall yesterday?”
Vicky folded her arms, winked at MacDonald. “When I spoke to the CEO, he point-blank refused to. I raised the matter to DI Forrester.”
Raven nodded. “And we discussed the matter with ACC Queensberry yesterday evening. It’s part of her remit.”
“A lot seems to be getting discussed with ACC Queensberry.” Vicky rested a hand on her hip. “We should’ve got a couple of big uniforms over there yesterday to close it down.”
Raven held up a hand. “We’re not crying over spilt milk here. Our priority now is this warning. We need to do everything we can to maintain public order, including stopping this display being set up as DS Dodds mentions.”
MacDonald frowned. “And you still want us to keep the Montrose case separate from these?”
“I’ve been perfectly clear on that.” Raven took a step back and tapped Forrester on the arm. “David, can you bring those idiots you’ve had back in? The Muirheads and the boy in the scooter? We need to get alibis from each of them covering last night.”
“Will do.”
Vicky put a hand on her other hip. “They were released under your instructions, sir. We wouldn’t need alibis if you hadn’t cancelled the surveillance.”
Raven glared at her. “We’ve got no concrete evidence against anyone except Marianne Smith. Mucking about on message boards isn’t sufficient to charge anyone else, especially when that idiot Fergus Duncan is threatening us with legal action. Let’s do this by the book.”
“Mucking about on message boards was all we had on Smith until I arrested her, sir.”
Raven rubbed at his forehead. “Just get them in here and clear them or charge the buggers, okay?”
Vicky stared at him till he looked away. “Fine. I’ll get them brought in, sir.”
Raven cleared his throat. “Right. I want us to cast the net wide. I’ve already asked David to go to town on checking for this black car. On top of this, I want to look into anyone in the Tayside area with sympathies to animal charities or other welfare groups. Large donations, activities on marches, that sort of thing. DS Dodds, your actions list is the lightest. Can you take lead on that?”
“Will do, sir.”
“I’ve managed to secure the Met Domestic Extremism resource supporting the Wildlife Squad. DS MacDonald, can you work with them?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Thanks. Anyone got anything else before I finish up? No? Excellent. Dismissed.”
Forrester looked round at Vicky as the crowd broke up. “See what I’m dealing with here?”
Chapter Ninety-Two
Vicky sat in the corner of the Old Mill Café, which was breakfast-time busy.
Forrester smiled at MacDonald as he laid their drinks down. “Cheers, Mac.”
“No bother.” MacDonald sat next to Vicky, almost brushing his leg against hers.
Forrester took his coffee. “What did you make of that, Vicky?”
“Why’s Raven so adamant about keeping the cases separate?”
“He keeps going on about best practice. You know what they’re like with the buzzwords.”
“Even with the sighting and the Taser?”
Forrester stirred sugar into his mug. “The good thing is it’s up to us to prove the cases are linked.” He shrugged. “Let’s just let Raven manage up the way.”
“We’ll show him.” MacDonald blew on his coffee.
“Don’t.” Forrester shook his head. “You two were pretty far over the mark there. Mac’s already been mauled by Raven this morning.”
MacDonald narrowed his eyes. “Should’ve kept up the surveillance on the Muirheads. This might not’ve happened.”
“You heard him, though. Fergus bloody Duncan’s been at the bloody Chief with this. We’ve got
an official complaint to deal with.”
“Sir, with all due respect, the Muirheads are solid suspects. They’ve already lied about their alibis.”
“Aye and we’ll get them for it in due course.” Forrester sipped his coffee. “I’ve been thinking about something John Raven said at the briefing.” He held up a hand. “I know, I know — always dangerous when I think, but humour me. The crimes have been escalating so far, right? Chucking a woman in a bin, trapping a crofter in his own snare, forced incest, chopping a farmer’s nose off, killing a greyhound trainer. Tying a bloke up in a car park’s a bit of a step down.”
“So what are you saying, sir?” Vicky took a drink of Diet Coke.
“I’m saying this could just be a warning. Something worse might be on its way.”
Vicky’s phone rang — Salewicz. “Do you mind if I take this?”
“Go for it.” Forrester waved her away.
Vicky turned away from them. “Hello?”
“Good morning, DS Dodds.”
“Thanks for calling me back.”
“You were after lists of visitors, right?”
“Have you got it?”
“I have. I’ll send it over but I need to warn you about something first — I gather you’ve had Polly and Sandy Muirhead in for questioning?”
“How the hell do you know that?”
“I had to run this list past my handler. He said there’s a flashing red flag next to their names.”
“They’re potentially involved in this group perpetrating the crimes we’re investigating.” Vicky swapped hands. “Are they on the list?”
“They’re frequent visitors here. Anyway, my handler got warned off by the NHTU.”
“That’s Vice, isn’t it? Why are they looking into them?”
“No idea. We collaborate with them a lot. It’s a fairly murky world, as I’m sure you can imagine. At the end of the day, it’s your battle to fight.”
“Any chance you could ask your handler?”
“Given how deep I am here, it was one-way info from him to me. I’m not going to press it.”
“Okay, thanks for passing it on. Do you lot have any active interest in them?”
“Well, they were known to my handler.”
“Can you send the list over?”
“It’s in your inbox now.”
“Thanks.” Vicky turned back and put her phone on the table, adjusting her skirt.
“Look, Mac, that’s the end of the matter, okay? We’ve got a job to do, let’s do it.” Forrester took a slurp of coffee and glanced at Vicky’s mobile. “Who was that?”
“Salewicz, the undercover guy at Phorever Love. Reckons the Muirheads were frequent visitors.”
“Shite.”
“That’s not all. His handler was warned off them by the NHTU.”
MacDonald frowned. “The National Human Trafficking Unit are interested in the Muirheads?”
“That’s what he said.”
MacDonald looked over his mug at Forrester. “Used to work in the predecessor in Strathclyde a few years ago, the old Vice and Trafficking Unit. Could check it out, if you’d like?”
“Do it.” Forrester tapped his fist against his lips. “How does this relate to human trafficking?”
“Might not, sir.”
Vicky cleared her throat, feeling like something was stuck in it. “Have we been told to kill the surveillance because Vice are interested in them?”
“Probably.” MacDonald finished his coffee. “Vice investigations usually push everyone else to arm’s reach.”
Forrester shook his head. “Christ’s sake.”
“Let me pick up with the NCA guys.” MacDonald pushed his mug away. “Might be something in this.”
Forrester nodded. “Vicky, I don’t care what Raven’s telling us to do and I don’t care about Fergus bloody Duncan. This is solid intel. Give the Muirheads hell when they get here.”
Chapter Ninety-Three
Vicky tugged at her blouse collar. “Thanks for coming here voluntarily again. We appreciate your co-operation.”
Fergus Duncan sat between Polly and Sandy Muirhead, a grin on his face as he fiddled with his mobile. He scowled as he looked up. “Please cut the preamble. My clients are very busy people.”
“First, we’re looking to establish your whereabouts between seven p.m. and nine p.m. last night.”
Muirhead looked up from Vicky’s chest, flicking his tongue over his lips. “We were at a dinner party with friends.”
“I hope for your sakes it’s not Simon and Emma Hagger.”
Duncan raised his eyebrows. “Excuse me?”
“We’ve been led down the garden path by your clients in relation to the previous alibi from them.”
“I assure you this is the truth.” Muirhead stared at her, eyelids flickering. “We were with friends last night.”
Vicky sighed. “What are their names?”
“There were eight of us. I can give you the names of the hosts.”
“That’ll suffice for starters.”
“Connor and Jennifer Ewing.” Muirhead took a sheet of paper from Duncan and wrote on it before passing it to Vicky. “This is their address.”
Vicky checked it — the arse end of Broughty Ferry. She stared at Muirhead again. “Were your friends Simon and Emma Hagger there?”
Muirhead nodded. “They were, aye.” She nodded at Considine. “We will, of course, verify the story.”
Muirhead unclenched his fists. “By all means.”
Vicky sat back in her chair and smoothed down her skirt. “This is your chance to change your mind if this is made up.”
“It’s the truth.”
“You’re definitely sure about that?”
“Aye!”
Duncan tossed his phone on the table. “Sergeant, please desist from this until you’ve bothered to validate the story.”
Vicky glanced at Polly. “Anything else to add, Mrs Muirhead?”
Polly shook her head, still staring at the tabletop. “No.”
Vicky looked at her for a few seconds. Something was being hidden here. She stared at Muirhead. “We want to understand your whereabouts on the nineteenth of August last year.”
Muirhead creased his forehead, the wrinkles smoothing out as he smiled. “That’s easy. We were on holiday in Riga.”
Considine frowned. “In Latvia?”
“Aye.” Muirhead kept smiling. “My wife and I are making an effort to visit every single country in Europe. That’s the fourteenth country on our list.”
Vicky made a note. “Again, we’ll check that out. Flight reservations, hotel bookings, that sort of thing. We’ll need to speak to the airlines and hotels to make sure you were actually there.”
“We were!”
“I’m not comfortable just taking your word for it, Mr Muirhead.” Vicky drilled a stare into Polly. “We’ve reason to believe you were frequent visitors to the Phorever Love commune out by Redford.”
Neither responded.
Vicky raised her hands up, then let them drop back to the tabletop. Both looked up. “Is that correct?”
Polly drummed her thumb on the tabletop, the frequency and velocity quickening. “We were there as part of the pro bono work I do at Gray and Leech.”
“What work is this?”
“I’ve mentioned it before. The work we’re doing is helping a small operation deal with complex contracts.”
Vicky looked at Duncan. “Is that true?”
“It’s confidential.”
“Is it true, though?”
Duncan spun his phone on the desk. “My clients have stated the reason for their visit. The action now rests with you to verify that, should you wish.”
“We will.” Vicky resisted throwing Duncan’s phone against the w
all. “You said this was work related and yet both of you went?”
“My wife and I decided to combine business with pleasure.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Polly shrugged. “We had a day out in the countryside afterwards. Cup of tea, spot of lunch.”
“We’ll have to check with your employers.”
Duncan rolled his eyes. “I can confirm it’s true. The details are confidential, but they are clients of ours.”
“We’ll need to obtain that from the partners in the firm, not just a lowly member of staff.”
“I beg you —”
“Does this matter pertain to your complaint of corporate sensitivity?”
Duncan put his hand over the tape recorder’s microphone. “Of course it does.”
Vicky held his gaze till he looked away.
Muirhead held up his watch. “Is that it? Are we free to go?”
Vicky sat back, thinking what else she could do. Raven just wanted them cleared. Until the latest alibi fell apart, they had to keep them on that side of the line. “For now.”
Chapter Ninety-Four
Got an update on the Muirheads, sir.” Vicky sat in the chair in front of Forrester’s desk, stamping her feet on the carpet.
“Glad to hear it.”
MacDonald burst in the room. “I’ve got something, sir.”
“Sorry, Mac, Vicky’s first.”
“But, sir, thi —”
“Mac. Vicky’s first, okay?” Forrester shook his head. “Worse than bloody children.”
MacDonald slumped in the other chair, his foot tapping. “Right.”
Vicky crossed her legs. “Just been in with the Muirheads as per Raven’s instructions. The latest spurious alibi is they were at a dinner party. Considine’s checking it out. Polly reckons she was doing pro bono work at Phorever Love — that seems to be the corporate sensitivity angle Duncan was banging on about.”
Forrester rubbed his eyes. “What do you want to do, Vicky?”
“I want to arrest them. I think they’re involved in this.”
“Good old policeman’s hunch like your old man?”