by Ed James
Vicky exhaled slowly. “I’m not much better.”
MacDonald took a sip from his pint. “Quiet in here now, isn’t it?”
“Everyone’s left for the clubs. That or the coke’s run out.”
He smirked. “Still can’t tempt you?”
“At my age?”
“At your age nothing.”
Vicky glanced at the food menu on the table. “The boss didn’t get round to getting food in. I’m starving.”
“Me too.”
Vicky finished her bottle of WKD then bounced to her feet. “Come on. Let’s get some food then maybe I’ll find my dancing shoes somewhere on the way.” She sashayed out of the bar ahead of MacDonald into the cool air.
The smoker from earlier was back out, lips around another cigarette. She winked as they passed.
Vicky looked up and down Reform Street — it was dark, but the McDonald’s near the Caird Hall end was open. She did a 180 and stared at the pillars of Dundee High lit up at the end of the street. Near the clubs. “Come on, this way.” She led MacDonald up Reform Street towards the school.
He pulled on his suit jacket. “Where we headed?”
“Don’t know.”
“Fancy a curry?”
Vicky laughed. “Let’s get something a bit more Dundee.”
“Like what?”
“Chips, cheese and coleslaw. There’s a good place on Panmure Street.”
He laughed. “The most Dundee thing I’ve ever heard of.”
Vicky glanced over at the back of the McManus Galleries to their right. “I saw someone eating a mince roll last week.”
“A mince roll?”
“My dad used to have a Scotch pie on a roll.”
“Seriously?”
“Aye. He ate the pastry off the top and the bottom first, then put it on a buttered morning roll and smeared tomato ketchup all over it.”
MacDonald nodded slowly. “Sounds like a father —daughter bonding thing, right?”
“Maybe.” Her heart jumped. “Shit, are any of our lot still out?”
MacDonald shrugged as he stopped in the street. “Shouldn’t be. Why? You ashamed of being seen in public with me?”
Vicky wrapped her arms around her waist, guarding against the cold. “No. I just don’t like how people talk.”
“They do, don’t they?” He smirked. “Zoë thinks you’re a bitch.”
Vicky shrugged. “I kind of am.”
He laughed. “Wonder what they think of me.”
“They call you Big Time Charlie.”
“Doesn’t surprise me.” MacDonald licked his lips. “What’s wrong with two single people going for a drink?”
“Nothing.”
MacDonald stepped forward and kissed her gently on the lips.
She locked her eyes on his then tilted her head to the side and leaned forward, eyes closed, her mouth connecting with his.
His arms snaked around her, one hand cradling her neck, his tongue exploring.
“Get stuck in there, son!”
They broke off, Vicky taking a step back. A group of lads in rugby shirts walked along the street opposite, clapping and waving at them.
Vicky stared at the pavement. This wasn’t in the plan. What the hell was she doing now? She put a hand to her face. “Look, I’m sorry, Euan, I really need to go.” She flagged down a passing taxi, a silver Skoda.
MacDonald frowned at her, his mouth twitching. “Okay. See you tomorrow?”
“Aye.” Vicky got in the taxi, shutting the door behind her. “Carnoustie.”
The driver rubbed his hands together. “Tonight’s my lucky night.”
Vicky slumped back in the seat, not feeling so lucky.
Chapter One Hundred and Nine
Vicky woke up bleary-eyed, the rumble of the taxi going right up her spine. Took her a few seconds to recognise Monifieth passing through the window.
“You’re awake again then, princess?”
“I’m not sure.” She sat up and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. The cheeky bastard had taken the low road — must’ve seen her fall asleep when they were still in Dundee and decided to get a few extra quid out of his lucky night.
Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. She swallowed. At least she hadn’t gone to a club with MacDonald.
Did she really kiss him?
She should’ve gone to Robert’s.
Only he was involved in the case, wasn’t he?
“Shit, shit, shit.”
“You all right back there, princess? Fifty quid if you chuck up.”
“I’m fine.” Vicky took a deep breath, massaging her churning gut. “Can you drop me at Corbie Drive instead?”
“Sure. It’ll not save you anything, mind.”
“I know that.”
The taxi took a left at the new roundabout towards the old main road through Barry, then took the next right into Corbie Drive. Squat, boxy grey houses and their triangular roofs.
“Here’ll do.”
“That’s twenty quid, love.”
Vicky handed him the money. “Have a good night.” She got out and the cold air hit her. She started shivering, goose bumps crawling up her arms. Rubbing at her arms, she started walking deeper into the cul-de-sac, tottered up the first left into Liz’s street.
She tried to think through what to say. “Sorry, I got held back but here I am. Oh yeah, and I’m drunk. And I got off with my colleague.”
Liz’s house was at the end. Barry Church lurked in the street behind it. Robert lived next door but she didn’t know which side. The bungalow on the right was surely out of the price range of a teacher.
She clicked her fingers — he’d said it was on the left. Shared a drive with Liz’s — that’s how he’d got talking to Dave. She stopped in the middle of the road. “Shit, shit, shit.”
In front of Robert’s house was a black Audi saloon.
Friday
4th April 2014
Chapter One Hundred and Ten
Vicky entered the incident room to find Raven’s briefing was already underway. She skulked around the back of the room, hoping not to be noticed, and settled for a spot by Considine.
She texted her Mum. Her head was thudding, her mouth dry. Thanks for lift. You’re a lifesaver.
Considine whispered in her ear. “Thought Forrester didn’t like us being late?”
She glared at him. “Do as I say, not as I do.”
Raven glanced their way before continuing. “The Newcastle lead in the Micky Scott death took an interesting turn yesterday. Mr Scott’s son is, how shall I say this, causing mischief. He’s recanted his statement given to DS Dodds relating to the suspicion of some person or persons involved in greyhound racing down there. We’ve been liaising with Northumbria constabulary and they’ve given us a list of suspects in Newcastle and Sunderland, all of whom have been under investigation for corruption. Sadly, we’ve nothing at present but we do expect to progress matters today.”
He prodded at Birds on the whiteboard. “Yesterday’s first big event, of course, was what happened at Fixit DIY. Graeme Christie’s still in hospital. He’ll be there for a while.” He tapped on Dudhope Castle. “The street team around Dudhope have a sighting of a man and a woman driving away in a van near to where Mr Ramsay was found. We’ve just had word of a similar sighting at the Fixit store. Details remain sketchy but we’re looking to get a concrete ID progressed this morning. We’ve got a revised information request out there.”
He moved his hand to Vivisection/UQTECH. “Our highest priority is finding Calum Urquhart. His father remains in custody after his altercation with Willis Stewart last night. Street teams in the town have thus far yielded very little, I’m afraid. We believe he might’ve got in a car or van parked alongside the bus stop, potentially the same one as at Du
dhope. This isn’t an opportunistic abduction. This has been planned out, carefully. The CCTV around Dundee High is sketchy at best. We’ve got some possible sightings of this vehicle but nothing concrete.”
Considine raised his hand. “Just had word back from Forensics, sir. All notes received so far definitely match.”
Raven raised an eyebrow, briefly locking eyes with Forrester. “That’s useful, Constable.” He checked a sheet of paper on the desk in front of him. “On that topic, Scenes of Crime have found some hair trapped in the cage Mr Ramsay was found in. While it matches the hair found at Hunter’s Farm, we’re still no further forward in identifying whose it is.”
Vicky cleared her throat. “Sorry, sir, but have we checked out if Ramsay’s got any animal cruelty charges against him?” Shite — her voice sounded rough.
“No idea. Anyone?”
Karen nodded at him. “I ran a search this morning, sir. Nothing on the PNC but I found some stuff on the internet. Looks like he’s been investigated for beating up his birds. There was a video of him punching them.”
“Bloody hell.” Raven pinched his nose. “Zoë, can you get on that? Find out who’s posted it?”
“Will do, sir.”
Raven reached down and retrieved a sheet of paper. “We don’t know if this is genuine or not, but The Courier received a note warning against an attack on the zoo at Camperdown Park. DI Greig, I want you to focus at least two-thirds of your time on that.”
“Will do, sir.”
Raven scowled at him. “How are you progressing with the ‘Taser as MO’ angle?”
“Nothing so far, sir. We’ve just got a guy in Birmingham who’s currently inside for armed robbery.”
“So nothing?”
“Afraid not.”
Raven stared at the board for a few seconds, scribbling an illegible note next to Taser. He faced them again, arms folded, wiggling the pen between his fingers. “DS Kelly has a full list of detailed actions for every officer, but I just want to outline our priorities for the day. I want us to find Calum Urquhart. I want to find who picked him up. I want people back at uqTech speaking to their entire payroll and ex-employees. I want to find who trapped Graeme Christie and Kyle Ramsay. I want this van found. Also, I want to find out who recorded these videos and posted them online. Lastly, I want to prevent an attack on Camperdown Park.”
He licked his lips. “This is a critical case. It’s not the usual type of case we’d deal with in MIT North. There are clear signs of an escalation. We don’t want the next crime this group commits to involve an atrocity on a scale larger than what we’ve seen here or a young boy being crucified on the Law Hill. I’m liaising with the NCA and other bodies to make sure we’re managing the threat appropriately.”
He took a deep breath. “Dismissed.”
Vicky spotted MacDonald heading her way. She shot off in the opposite direction, found Karen in the sea of bodies.
“Christ, Vicks, you look like you need a breakfast.”
“I do. I’ll see you across the road. I just need to speak to someone first.” Vicky went over to DS Kelly’s desk.
The admin officer was reading the paper as the Acting DC shadowing him doled out actions. He looked up. “Doddsy, speak to young Keith about actions. I’m busy.”
“Are you hell.” Vicky snatched his paper up. “I want to raise a new suspect in the case log.”
Kelly blew air up his nose. His fat lips vibrated. He leaned forward, his belly wobbling, shirt buttons straining, eyes on his paper. “Got any evidence?”
“Some. The name’s Robert Hamilton. He appeared on the list of significant donors to the animal shelter on Brown Street.” She held out a finger. “Not the council one.”
“Right. Anything else? As far as I recall, Vicky, there were over four hundred people on that list. Shall I add them all?”
“Just that one. He owns a black saloon. An Audi.”
Kelly raised his eyebrows, his lined forehead creasing further. “You know we’re not necessarily looking for an exec-class one, right? They’ve changed the request.”
“Can you get someone to run a check on his car?”
Kelly checked a page of notes. “Robert Hamilton, Robert Hamilton, Robert Hamilton . . . Here we go. Aye, he’s on our list of car owners. Got two officers heading down there, probably head out there this afternoon.”
Vicky swallowed. What had she got into? “Thanks.” She handed his paper back.
Kelly thumbed at the ADC next to him. “You spoken to wee Keith about your actions yet?”
“Not yet.”
“Well, you and Big Time Charlie are to investigate the Muirheads as suspects.”
Chapter One Hundred and Eleven
Vicky opened the door to the Old Mill Café in a daze. The end of Reform Street, MacDonald kissing her. Now she was stuck with him.
She swallowed and looked around the place, smelled the familiar tang of coffee in the air.
Karen was seated in the window, flicking through a paper.
“Morning.” Vicky slumped in the seat, the nerve in her neck thumping.
Karen slid a bacon roll across to Vicky. “Butter and bacon at breaking point.”
“At least my breakfast will be okay today.” Vicky opened the roll. Perfect.
Karen finished chewing a mouthful. “Soon as we’re done here, I’ve got to head out to that DIY place again.”
“Lucky you.” Vicky tore open a blue sachet of brown sauce and squirted it onto her roll. She took a bite, savouring the liquid butter mixing with the crisp bacon.
“You feeling okay, Vicks?”
Vicky chewed faster. “Sorry, I’m a bit hung-over.”
“How did you chance upon this hangover? Robert?”
Vicky let out a breath, eyes on the plate. “I went out with Forrester and MacDonald for a pint after work last night. Mum had to drop me off. I left my car here.”
“You got a taxi back to Carnoustie?”
“Aye. Twenty quid.”
“Oh Jesus, Vicks.” Karen put her head in her hands. “You cancelled on Robert, didn’t you?”
“Aye.”
“By text?”
“No! I phoned him.”
“You’re a nightmare, my girl.” Karen took a bite of her own roll. There was ketchup smeared on her chin. “If you binned him last night, I take it Wednesday was a disaster then?”
“Wednesday was good.” Vicky stared into space. A draught from the door sent a shiver up her spine.
“Aye, Colin said something about you looking all ravished yesterday morning. I take it your top drawer didn’t get opened?”
“Only for a condom.”
“Oh my God!”
Vicky mopped up the fat from her plate with the last bit of the roll. “Yeah, there you go.”
“Morning, ladies.” MacDonald walked past the table, raising a finger in recognition, before going up to the counter to order.
Karen leaned across the table. “Big Time Charlie’s not bad looking, actually. Total wanker, though.”
“I got off with him last night.”
Karen ran her hand through her hair and stared at Vicky for a few seconds. “You’re a complete idiot.”
Vicky looked away. “I know.”
“That Robert guy sounds nice.”
“He is nice.” Vicky stared at the table. “That’s the problem. I’ve never been one for the nice guy, have I?”
“MacDonald’s very much the bad boy, isn’t he?” Karen looked across the café. “Blue BMW, Big Time Charlie attitude.”
Vicky watched MacDonald fiddle with his wallet as he waited for his latte. “I’ve no idea what I’m doing.”
“Have you told MacDonald you’ve got a kid?”
“No.”
“What about Robert?”
Vicky n
odded. “He’s met Bella.”
“I said you were being an idiot four and a half years ago when you let Alan go.”
“I didn’t let him go. He pissed off and left me, three months pregnant. What kind of a man does that?” She hit the table. “He’s a fucking worm, Karen. I don’t want him anywhere near Bella.”
“You’re sure?”
“We’re better off with him out of our lives.” Vicky rubbed at a tear slipping from her eye. “Bella’s better off never knowing him.”
“You can be a cold bitch at times.”
“I wonder why. It’s how I cope. I’ve got a load of shit to do today so I’ll be pressing the switch marked ‘cold bitch’ any second now.” Vicky wiped another tear away.
“You’re such a Dundee wifie, Vicks. You just need a kettle-boiler husband while you work in the jute mill.”
“That’s my family history. I’m not a Fifer like you.”
“Is Robert the sort to look after Bella while you’re out working?”
“I don’t know.” Vicky watched MacDonald again as he bantered with the barista. Was he the sort to take in a four-year-old and her damaged mother? She sighed and pushed her plate away. “I’m worried Robert’s involved in this case.”
Karen rolled her eyes. “Now we’re getting down to it.”
“I’m serious. He’s into this animal welfare stuff. He’s on a donation list Zoë got from the Brown Street kennels. And he’s got a black Audi.”
“You’re serious?”
“He’s been tapping me up for information, Kaz. He’s trying to keep an eye on the case. I’ve been such a bloody idiot.”
“Sure this isn’t you up to your usual, Vicky? As soon as a guy gets anywhere near you, you run a mile.” Karen shook her fists in the air. “I want to shake you so hard right now.”
Vicky put the last bit of roll back on the plate. “I raised it in the case log.”
“Christ, Vicky. You better not be wrong.”
“I know.”
Considine breezed past, slapping MacDonald on the shoulder like they were best mates. MacDonald wandered over to the table but stayed standing, a frown on his forehead, smile on his lips. “Morning, Vicky.”