Snared

by Ed James

  Flynn cleared his throat. He was young and heavyset, his thick, dark brown beard matching his hipster side-parting. His shirt was open to the neck, tufts of chest hair sneaking out. His light brown suit jacket hung off the back of the chair. “I acknowledge that, Sergeant.”

  “Inspector.”

  “Sorry, Inspector.” Flynn coughed again. “My client maintains her statement, albeit without the benefit of it being verifiable.”

  Alison smiled as she rubbed a finger down her cheek. “I was at work, on my own.”

  “That’s only part of it, though.” Forrester leaned back, almost horizontal. “Providing a false alibi. Tut tut.”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “It’ll be interesting to see the judge’s face when you use that as your defence in court.” Forrester nudged the file away towards Vicky then rubbed his hands together. “You’ll get charged with that after this interview, of course.”

  McFarlane swallowed. “I see.”

  “Are you involved in these crimes?”

  “No, I’m not.”

  “The trouble is, you don’t have an alibi for the evening of Wednesday the twenty-sixth, do you?”

  “My client will amend her statement. She still has an alibi.”

  “But you’ve got nothing to back that up, have you?”

  Flynn blinked a few times before turning to Alison. “Any work emails?”

  Alison shook her head. “I was checking through the paperwork we receive from our vets, making sure it tallied with our own records.”

  Vicky noted it down. “On a computer?”

  “Paper.”

  “What about for the other times in question? Start with Sunday th —”

  Flynn raised a finger. “I know all the dates you’re going to ask my client. She was at work on each of them.”

  “Each of them?”

  “Yes.”

  “How do you know this?”

  Flynn held up a Moleskine notebook. “The desk sergeant downstairs — Davies, is it? — he gave me them when I arrived.”

  Vicky stared at Alison. “Is there anything pinning you to a location?”

  “Probably not.” Alison scratched at her hair. “Sorry.”

  “Very well.” Forrester picked up his own notebook. “I want to ask you a series of questions relating to other matters. Please answer them. Correctly would be my preference.”

  Flynn raised a finger in the air, then thought better of it and returned his gaze to the tabletop. “Certainly.”

  “Ms McFarlane, are you acquainted with a Polly Muirhead?”

  She shook her head. “Never heard of her.”

  “What about Sandy Muirhead?”

  “No.”

  “Marianne Smith?”

  Alison blinked a few times, then her eyes widened. “I’ve never heard of her.”

  “Well, you reacted there.” Forrester thumbed over Vicky’s shoulder. “This is being recorded on video. That’s admissible as evidence.”

  Alison swallowed. “I used to know someone of that name. A long time ago.”

  “Interesting.” Forrester scribbled in his notebook.

  Vicky sucked her tongue, trying to generate some saliva. “What about a Robert Hamilton?”

  “No.” Alison held her gaze. “Never heard of him.”

  “Okay.” Forrester clapped his hands together and leaned forward, his mouth over the microphone. “Interview terminated at thirteen thirty-one.” He got to his feet and smiled at the Custody and Security Officer. “Can you take her downstairs and get her charged? Davies knows what to do.”

  The PCSO nodded. “Will do, sir.”

  Forrester led Vicky out of the room and they paced down the corridor together. “Who’s Robert Hamilton?”

  “Somebody who came up on their donor list. I flagged him with DS Kelly this morning.”

  “Okay.” Forrester started up the stairs. “Nothing I should be worried about?”

  “Shouldn’t think so, sir.” Vicky felt short of breath as they climbed.

  Forrester held the door open for her. “Reckon McFarlane’s involved in this?”

  “It’s possible. She seems to know Marianne Smith, definitely knows Yvonne Welsh.”

  “What makes somebody do this?” Forrester led across the office towards his room, pausing by the door. “I just don’t get it.”

  “Love of animals, hatred of people.”

  “You’ve got a cat, though. Why aren’t you doing this?”

  “I don’t hate everyone, sir.”

  “Aye, I suppose.” Forrester shook his head. “What a bloody city.”

  Karen entered the room, heavily out of breath. “I’ve got something for you, sir.”

  Forrester scowled. “What?”

  Karen held up an evidence bag containing a phone. “This is the mobile we found in the car. It’s a Pay As You Go burner. Forensics have been all over it and found some GPS locations on there. The location map shows it was used at least ten times in the Hilltown.”

  “Was there an address?”

  “Number one Ann Street.”

  Vicky briefly shut her eyes. “That’s where Brian Morton lives.”

  Forrester scowled. “The fat boy on the scooter?”

  “Aye.” Vicky nodded at Karen. “How accurate is the trace?”

  “To two metres, she reckons. Jenny Morgan swore on her life.”

  Forrester patted Vicky’s shoulder. “Get him back in here. And get his bloody laptop, too.”

  Chapter One Hundred and Twenty

  Forrester stopped pacing and looked over. “He’s been in the bloody station twenty minutes now. What on Earth are they doing?”

  “Deliberately taking his time getting up here, sir.” Vicky tapped a foot against the door. “Shall we speak to his lawyer alone?”

  “It’s Nelson-Caird, isn’t it?”

  “Aye.”

  “Let’s do that.”

  Vicky followed Forrester into the interview room and sat down next to him.

  Nelson-Caird smoothed down the margins of her black notebook. “Has my client arrived?”

  “Which one? You’re representing Yvonne Welsh, Marianne Smith and Brian Morton. Care to explain?”

  “My clients are all Legal Aid cases. As you should know, my firm — Brown and Martin — are the largest Legal Aid practitioners in the city.”

  “You’re saying you’re ambulance chasers, then?”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “No win, no fee, right?”

  “DI Forrester, you should be relieved this interview is not being recorded. We take our reputation very seriously and defend it rigorously.”

  “Cutting all that noise for one minute, how come you’re defending virtually all of the suspects in this case?”

  “It’s just the way it works. We’re a busy company and I happen to have been allocated these cases by our office workflow system. I’m more than happy to push them to a colleague but that’s going to slow things down for you.”

  “Very well.”

  The door opened and PC Soutar pushed a wheelchair in, scraping the wheels on the door. Brian Morton was a dead weight in front of him, his body wobbling with the movement.

  Forrester leaned forward to start the interview.

  Vicky got up and joined PC Colin Woods in the corridor. “How is he?”

  “Not said a word since we picked him up. He’s just sat there breathing heavily. Took an age of man to lift him off his scooter.”

  “Was his brother there?”

  Woods shook his head. “He was on his own.”

  “Off you go. I’ll let you get back on duty.”

  “You don’t need us to take him back?”

  “Don’t worry about that.” Vicky flicked up her eyebrows. �
��He’s not getting out anytime soon.” She entered the room and sat opposite Brian.

  Forrester spoke into the microphone. “DS Victoria Dodds has entered the room.”

  She passed a sheet of paper across the table. “Mr Morton, we retrieved a mobile phone from a car. This vehicle is central to the case we’re working on. You might’ve seen it in the news?”

  No reaction.

  “We traced the mobile to your residence.” Vicky stabbed a finger at the sheet of paper. “That’s the results of a series of GPS extracts we obtained from the phone this afternoon.”

  Nelson-Caird picked up the sheet and reviewed it. “My client lives on the ground floor of a block of flats. How do you know it’s not the first or second floors?”

  “Neither of those residents are active members of xbeast. Are they, Brian?”

  His head sank, flattening out his jowls as his face grew flushed. He scowled at Vicky but didn’t say anything.

  “Brian, do you know Yvonne Welsh?”

  His breathing sped up. His mouth hung open.

  “Do you know her, Brian? We’ve got her in custody.”

  Brian turned away.

  “Did you use the phone, Brian?”

  “No.”

  “Was it Yvonne?”

  “I don’t know an Yvonne.”

  “I bet you do.” Vicky gave him space. He didn’t fill it. “Where’s your brother?”

  Brian clamped a hand to his chest. “I don’t feel well.”

  Nelson-Caird got to her feet. “You need to get him taken to hospital.”

  Brian slumped in his wheelchair, head rolling back on his shoulders, arms prone.

  The custody officer jumped into action, wheeling Brian out of the room, Airwave to his face. “Control, this is Buchanan. I need urgent medical assistance for a Brian Morton.”

  Nelson-Caird followed them out of the room.

  Vicky leaned over the microphone. “Interview terminated at fourteen eighteen.” She got the first tape out of the machine and put it in its case.

  Forrester put his feet up on the table. “Shite.”

  Vicky shut the case of the second tape, scowling at the open door. “It’s an act. He’s involved in this.”

  “He clearly hasn’t been trapping people in cages.”

  “Doesn’t mean he’s not involved, sir.” Vicky got to her feet. “Come on, we need to get closer to this.”

  Chapter One Hundred and Twenty-One

  Vicky held open the door to their office space for Forrester.

  MacDonald was talking to Karen and Considine. He looked over as they approached. “Did you nail him?”

  “DS Dodds made him have a heart attack.”

  MacDonald raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

  “Not sure.” Vicky leaned against a desk and noticed the ladder in her tights again. “He’s faking it.”

  Forrester got out his mobile. “I’ll need to cover your back with Raven, okay?” He put the phone to his head and walked off.

  MacDonald folded his arms. “That true?”

  “He’s faking it, I swear.” Vicky spun around and pointed at Zoë. “Can you check Brian’s account on xbeast again?”

  “What for?”

  “Anything incriminating.”

  “Okay, well I’ve got his laptop so it should be easier.” Zoë patted the machine then started typing, her fingers blurring over the keyboard, thumb dancing off the trackpad. “Right. Here we go.” She tapped the screen, clicking with her tongue. “Well, it looks like he’s definitely the one who posted the videos. There’s raw WMV files on here.”

  MacDonald stood behind her, gripping the seat back. “This is definitely true?”

  “Aye. I’ve sort of known for a couple of days.”

  “What?”

  “Well, I got a match to one of the accounts posting the videos on YouTube. The IP matched the same one used on xbeast. The Met guys have better gear than I’ll ever see but they still got nowhere. It wasn’t until we got his laptop that I could definitely check.”

  MacDonald stood there, nostrils flaring. “Should’ve told us earlier.”

  “I didn’t want to be wrong, sir. This was more art than science until I got his computer.”

  “Fine, I’ll let you off. Who’s doing this with him?”

  Vicky folded her arms. “I think it’s his brother. Brian flaked out when I asked him about John.”

  Forrester stormed over, hands in pockets. “Right. Raven’s been in with the Procurator Fiscal. He’s happy for us to offer Yvonne a deal. We can get her to turn Queen’s evidence.”

  Chapter One Hundred and Twenty-Two

  Interview recommenced at fifteen hundred hours. Present are myself, DS Victoria Dodds, and DS Euan MacDonald. The suspect, Yvonne Welsh, is also present. Kelly Nelson-Card is her lawyer.” Vicky sat back in her chair, making eye contact with Yvonne. “Ms Welsh, you know this is a murder case, don’t you?”

  “You told me last time.”

  “We’ve just spoken to Brian Morton.”

  Yvonne’s eyes shot up. Her mouth twitched.

  “We traced the phone we found in your car back to his house. For obvious reasons, we don’t think Brian’s directly involved in committing the crimes, but he’s certainly implicated. Not least by the fact he’s been posting videos of the crimes online.”

  Nelson-Caird waved her hands in the air. “That pertains to another case entirely. You can’t bring that up here.”

  “It’s all one case. Just because you’ve got a conflict of interest doesn’t mean it’s invalid.” Vicky tossed over the results of Zoë’s analysis. “This proves it.”

  MacDonald leaned forward. “Yvonne, you’re linked to Brian. No point in denying it.”

  “I’m saying nothing.”

  “How do you know Brian?”

  “No comment.”

  “How do you know John?”

  Yvonne rubbed her forehead. “John who?”

  “John Morton. Brian’s brother.”

  “No comment.”

  “Final answer?”

  “No comment.”

  “See, we can’t find John. Seems to have disappeared. Is he involved?”

  “No comment.”

  “Well, he certainly seems happy for you to take the rap for this.”

  Yvonne glanced at Nelson-Caird.

  MacDonald put a sheet of paper in front of Nelson-Caird. “Yvonne, this is an offer made on behalf of the Procurator Fiscal. Guarantees you immunity from prosecution for charges pertaining to these crimes in exchange for testifying against your collaborators.”

  Nelson-Caird retrieved the page and slowly read through it. She whispered to Yvonne, loud enough for them to hear. “I’d take it if I were you.”

  Yvonne’s eyes stayed focused on the table. “No.”

  Vicky gritted her teeth. “Yvonne, you’re being set up. Whether it’s John Morton or Marianne Smith or someone else behind this, you’re the one taking the fall for a murder. I think your heart’s in the right place, I really do. From my perspective, I think you’ve just got in too deep. You wanted to help animals and you’ve ended up killing people. You never wanted to do that, did you?”

  Yvonne took the sheet from Nelson-Caird and studied it. She swallowed hard then sat for a few seconds, mouth open as she thought. “John’s behind it.”

  “John Morton?”

  Yvonne covered her face. “Yes.”

  “What happened, Yvonne?”

  She let out a deep breath. “You’re right. I got in too far. I just wanted to frighten people. I wanted to get our message out there.”

  “But John didn’t?”

  “No. John did but he took things too far.”

  Vicky nodded. The video . . . “Like Micky Scott, right? You said something li
ke ‘This is going too far’ before it was cut off, didn’t you?”

  “I did, aye. He’d been doing that for hours, kept stabbing the Taser at him. He didn’t want me to let the owls go.”

  “Kyle Ramsay’s owls?”

  “Aye. The ones that he got to gouge at him. I didn’t like him doing that. Getting them to bite him. We’re supposed to be stopping cruelty, not doing more ourselves.”

  Vicky noted it down. “Why’s John doing it?”

  “Power?” Yvonne shrugged. “He got carried away with it all. He works in PR. This is all just a campaign for him.”

  Vicky crossed her legs under the table. “How did you meet him?”

  “Through Brian.”

  “And how do you know Brian?”

  “We were at school together. We used to be, I don’t know, a couple? We were fourteen.” Yvonne scratched at her hair. “Brian wasn’t always like he is, you know? He used to be fit and healthy.”

  “But?”

  “But their dad was an arsehole. He treated Brian like shit. Losing his dog was what got him into the animal rights stuff.”

  MacDonald leaned forward. “What happened to his dog?”

  “Their parents were divorced and Brian was staying with his mother for the weekend. She was allergic to animals so Brian couldn’t take his dog, Goldie. Their dad went away on a boys’ weekend, some last-minute thing. He took Goldie to the Brown Street kennels.”

  “Where you work?”

  Yvonne shook her head. “No, the council one. He thought he could just put the dog in on a Friday and get her back on the Monday. Free boarding. Goldie got rehomed.”

  “Did he try and get her back?”

  “He did but their policies didn’t allow her to be reclaimed.”

  “What happened next?”

  “Brian was allowed to see the dog occasionally. The family lived in Monifieth. One day, Goldie got run over. Brian just fell apart. That’s when he started eating to cope, until that’s all he did apart from mess about on his computer.”

  Vicky focused on the wood grain of the table, centring on a particular knot. Was she throwing John to them? They’d given her an offer and she’d given them the mastermind behind it. Convenient. “Yvonne, we had John under surveillance when you attacked Hunter’s Farm. He didn’t leave Brian’s flat all weekend.”