‘That’s not particularly unusual, though,’ Clare said. ‘Criminals aren’t always so obliging.’
‘No, I don’t mean that. They said it was like the middle finger wasn’t long enough to make a proper print.’
‘Eh?’
Chris held up his notepad to demonstrate. ‘See my notepad? The way I’m holding it means there would be a thumb print on one side and fingers on the other. That’s the normal way someone would hold a piece of paper or card.’
‘But?’
‘But we have three clear fingerprints and one smudge where the middle finger would normally be. Like there was a finger there, but the tip was missing.’
‘Covered with a plaster or something?’
‘Not according to SOCO. A dressing on the finger would have made it longer and the print, or smudge, would have been further up. This was lower down than the other prints and they think it’s almost certainly been caused by a shorter finger. And not from birth because that would still have had a print. This has been an accident or surgery.’
The DCI was becoming impatient. ‘So, let me get this straight. We have two murders, both hit-and-runs. SOCO think it was the same car, but they can’t be sure; and we have two sets of fingerprints, one with the tip of a middle finger missing, neither of which we have on the system?’
‘That’s about it.’
Clare had to admire Chris’s deadpan response. He really didn’t give a toss what the DCI thought.
DCI Gibson turned to Clare. ‘You’ve a lot to sort out, here, Inspector. I sincerely hope you’re up to the job.’ He marched off into Clare’s office and slammed the door, causing Benjy to bark in alarm.
Clare went to soothe the dog, then set about directing the team. Sara unearthed a large map of the town and began explaining the area to Connor, Steve and Phil. Phil – Clare thought it was Phil at least – seemed more interested in Sara’s brown eyes than in the map.
‘Everything okay, lads?’ she called over to them and Phil focused his attention on the map.
‘I don’t like him,’ Chris muttered, adding, ‘sleazy bastard.’
Clare patted him on the shoulder. ‘Don’t you worry – I’m sure Sara can handle herself.’
Chris muttered something about Sara having to put up with harassment and went off to print out photos of the victims. Having set the printer to work, he phoned Tech Support. Jim was working his way through charitable clubs in the area and everyone else was either interviewing friends of the victims or trawling through ANPR footage. Having satisfied herself that they all knew what they were doing, Clare took Benjy into an interview room and spread out the bank statements and bills on the desk. It was a tedious task. Endless transactions, mostly for less than a hundred pounds. She found herself wondering when she might hear from the Lord Advocate’s office. The sensible thing to do would be to phone Tom. He could put some feelers out. Then she dismissed the thought. She wouldn’t ask Tom for anything – ever again.
Chris appeared at the door. ‘Clare.’
She looked up. ‘Tech Support?’
He nodded. ‘Nothing on the office iMac, unless you really want to look deeper into the brewery finances. The home PC is also pretty much domestic stuff. But his own laptop…’
‘Let me guess – Tor again?’
‘Yep.’
‘Any similarity to the files we found on Andy Robb’s laptop?’
‘No, sorry. Nothing like that. I mean he could have a memory stick, like Andy’s, but we’ve not found one so far. A couple of the lads are heading back over to the Gilmartins’ house, though, to give it a last look over. I’ll get them to look out for memory sticks. Mind you, in a house that size,’ he tailed off.
‘Tor, though… that’s interesting. Another link, albeit a tiny one. Thanks, Chris. Let me know if you and Jim turn up any charities or clubs that meet on a Thursday. Oh, and you’d better let the DCI know about the laptop.’
‘Will do.’ He closed the door and Clare returned to her pile of bank statements. Having found nothing of note in Bruce Gilmartin’s personal bank accounts she turned to his credit card statements. Here, there were larger purchases. Lots of shopping. John Lewis, Harvey Nics – it might be a joint card with his wife. Or perhaps he was that rare breed – a man who liked to shop. After an hour or so of perusing the Gilmartins’ finances, Clare gave up and walked out into the main office to stretch her legs.
Jim saw her and came over. ‘I need to get away to the airport now, Clare,’ he said. ‘Just letting you know I’ve not had any luck with clubs or charities meeting every Thursday. Don’t think Chris has found any either.’ He looked across to Chris who shook his head.
‘And those we have found,’ Chris added, ‘don’t have Mr Gilmartin as a member. Or Andy Robb.’
Clare sighed. Maybe the pubs and restaurants would turn up something. The phone rang. She answered it.
‘Inspector Mackay…?’ The voice was hesitant. ‘It’s Angela Robb. There’s something I wanted to let you see. Could you come over, please?’
* * *
The street was quieter than it had been on Sunday. People would be at work, children at school. She parked behind Billy Dodds’ dark grey Qashqai. Clare was glad to see he was there again. She liked Billy and hoped he wouldn’t turn out to be involved in Andy Robb’s death. Angela Robb deserved some happiness. She rang the bell and Angela answered. She had put some make-up on, and looked brighter than she had on Sunday morning.
‘Cup of tea?’ she asked Clare.
‘I’d love one, if I’m not holding you back.’
‘No. Glad of the distraction, to be honest. Go in,’ she said, pushing open the sitting room door. ‘Billy’s here.’
Clare went in and found Billy with his feet up on the settee, watching TV.
‘Inspector,’ he acknowledged.
‘How are you, Mr Dodds?’
‘Yeah, doin’ away, ye ken. Taken a couple of days off to help Angela and that. She’s a bit better, like. Finally starting to see the benefit of that choob being gone.’
Clare wasn’t sure how to respond to this, so she changed tack. ‘Is she sleeping okay?’
‘Oh aye. She’s tired out, to be honest. The shock and all the upheaval. Funeral to arrange as well. Had the papers at the door. Soon gave them short shrift, though.’
Clare was alert. ‘What did they say?’
‘Something about another boy being run over. Out one of the country roads, like. Asking if Angela kent him. Didnae mean anything to us.’
Angela appeared carrying a tray and Billy jumped up to take it from her. ‘Billy telling you we had the press at the door?’
Clare nodded.
‘Another hit-and-run?’
‘I can’t really say much about it, Angela. But I did want to ask something.’
‘Yeah?’
‘We found a memory stick in Andy’s car.’
Angela looked blank. ‘So?’
‘Well, it looked as if he’d hidden it. Didn’t want it to be found.’
‘What was on it, like?’
‘Nothing much. A document we couldn’t open and a folder with some encrypted files.’
Angela raised an eyebrow. ‘Encrypted? Like you need a password?’
‘Something like that,’ Clare said. ‘Have you any idea what the files might be?’
Angela looked at Billy then back at Clare. ‘Sorry, not a clue.’
‘Fair enough. There was something else though…’
‘Yeah?’
‘A bit of software loaded onto the stick. It’s used to access parts of the internet without leaving any trace.’
Angela’s eyes narrowed. ‘What parts of the internet?’
‘That’s what we don’t know. I wondered if you could shed any light on it.’
Angela was clueless. ‘I’ve no idea what Andy got up to.’
‘It’ll be porn,’ Billy told her. ‘He was a right one for the women. You ken he was, Angela. Bet it was some of those illegal sites. Donkeys
and that.’
Clare thought it best to disregard that last remark. She turned to Angela. ‘If anything does come to mind, will you let us know?’
‘Yeah, sure.’
Clare hesitated. ‘Also, this might seem a bit odd, but I wonder if you could both show me your hands?’
‘Hands?’ Billy’s face was a study. ‘What, these?’ He held out his hands for Clare to see.
She examined them closely, checked all the fingers. No blemishes, no missing fingertips. She smiled and let his hands go. Angela looked at Clare and held her hands out too. Again, Clare examined them closely. Angela’s fingertips were all present and correct.
‘Thank you both.’
‘Mind if I ask why?’ Billy wasn’t keen to let it go.
‘I’m afraid I can’t say at the moment. But I’m grateful for your co-operation.’ Clare drained her cup and turned to Angela. ‘There was something you wanted to show me?’
‘Right.’ Angela made for the door. ‘Follow me.’
Clare followed her across the hall into a dining room. It wasn’t a large room but big enough for a table and six chairs with a small sideboard opposite the door. The dining table was piled high with six or seven laptops. Clare looked at her.
‘Andy didn’t like getting rid of stuff. These are all broken. I said to him to take them into that shop in Market Street. They wipe them clean so they don’t have your bank details or anything like that. But he was suspicious, Andy. Didn’t trust folk. So, he hung onto them.’
‘How far back do these go?’
‘Some of them, I reckon, he’s had for nearly ten years. We’ve been in this house eleven years now and I certainly wouldn’t have paid the removal men to bring them from the last place. I’d actually forgotten about them. But I’ve started clearing out Andy’s stuff and these were up in the loft.’
‘Would you mind if I took them for our Tech Support guys to have a look at?’
Angela shook her head. ‘Keep them. I don’t want them back. You’ll be doing me a favour. I’ll get Billy to help you out to the car with them.’
Clare checked her watch. With luck, Jim would be back with Jennifer Gilmartin soon. Maybe she could send him down to Tech Support with the laptops. She started the engine and headed back to the station.
Chapter 11
Clare just missed Jennifer’s arrival.
‘She’s in your office with the DCI now,’ Jim told her.
Clare looked over Jim’s shoulder towards her office. The door was closed. ‘How was she?’
‘Shocked. Almost had a panic attack in the car.’
‘Genuine?’
‘Yes, I think so.’
‘And her flights? Did she go?’
‘They confirmed she was on the outgoing flight and didn’t check back in at Schiphol until this morning.’
‘Suppose we can rule her out then.’
‘I think so. She seems genuinely heartbroken.’
‘Okay, Jim. Thanks for that. Don’t suppose you could do me another favour?’
‘Aye?’
‘I know you’re just back but would you mind running a carload of laptops down to Tech Support? Angela Robb unearthed them from the attic. Andy’s old ones. Might be something on them that’ll help us.’
Jim went to transfer the laptops from the boot of Clare’s car to one of the pool cars.
Sara appeared with Connor and Steve in tow. Clare looked at her hopefully.
‘Sorry, boss. Nothing yet. We’re back for a quick break. Phil’s still out, checking clubs.’
Clare frowned. They weren’t having much luck. They really needed a break. She looked at the clock. Just gone four. She was keen to hang about until the DCI and Mrs Gilmartin came out of her office. Pound to a penny, the minute she started doing something else, they would appear. At that, her phone began to ring. She glanced at the display. A withheld number. She clicked to take the call.
‘Hello, Clare. I’m glad I caught you. We need to talk.’
Elaine Carter.
Clare sank down in a chair and made an effort to sound bright. ‘Elaine. What can I do for you?’
‘I think we should meet urgently, Clare. I’ve just been made aware that Francis Ritchie’s family have applied to prosecute you privately.’
‘Yes, I know that.’
‘You should have come to me about this immediately. Do I need to remind you it is your duty to keep me, as the force welfare officer, fully informed of anything that might impact on your role, to say nothing of your wellbeing?’
Clare sighed. Elaine was like one of those little dogs you couldn’t shake off your ankle. She would not let anything go.
‘Well, it hasn’t happened yet, Elaine. Maybe we should wait to hear what the Lord Advocate thinks first?’
‘That’s all well and good, Clare, but you have to be prepared in case the application is successful. So, let’s see. Mm – I could come up on Thursday?’
Thursday. It sounded like a siren in Clare’s head. If Andy Robb and Bruce Gilmartin were attending some sort of function or meeting on Thursday nights, perhaps there would be one this Thursday. Today was Tuesday. Andy and Bruce were dead, but was there a chance she could still find out what happened on Thursday nights?
‘Sorry, Elaine, Thursday’s out.’
‘Friday then?’
Clare’s office door opened and Jennifer Gilmartin emerged with DCI Gibson’s hand on her shoulder. She cut a striking figure in the office, her shoulder-length hair blonde with a few silver highlights. She was simply dressed in designer jeans, soft grey T-shirt and a pale red jacquard jacket, a Michael Kors handbag dangling from one hand. She was almost as tall as the DCI. Clare thought briefly that they would have made a handsome couple and she wondered if there was any history there.
Benjy trotted at her heels, gazing up at her.
‘Inspector,’ the DCI began, then seeing she was on the phone, raised an eyebrow.
For once, Clare was glad of the interruption. ‘I’ll call you soon, Elaine,’ she promised and ended the call. She smiled at the DCI. He didn’t smile back.
‘Elaine?’
‘Elaine Carter.’
‘Hm. The touchy-feely woman?’
‘The welfare officer, yes.’
He rolled his eyes but said no more. ‘Perhaps you would be kind enough to take Mrs Gilmartin round to the hotel? Check her in and go up to the room. Make sure everything is in order.’
‘Of course. But what about Benjy?’
No one had thought about that.
‘Not a clue,’ DCI Gibson said. ‘Do hotels usually take dogs?’
‘A few do but most don’t, I think,’ Clare said. ‘I can phone them to check if you like?’
Jennifer Gilmartin looked troubled. ‘I’m not sure how he would be. If he barked…’
‘It’s okay.’ Clare said. ‘I’ve been looking after him since yesterday and he’s no trouble at all. Would you like me to take him home again tonight? We should have you back in your own house tomorrow.’
Jennifer’s eyes began to fill with tears. ‘That would be kind, Inspector. I’d be very grateful.’
Jennifer handed Benjy’s lead to the DCI who seemed more than a little uncomfortable with it.
‘Don’t take all afternoon, Inspector,’ he said uncertainly. He looked round and his eye fell on Chris who turned quickly back to his computer. He walked over to Chris’s desk and held Benjy’s lead out to him. ‘Job for you, Sergeant…’
Chris took the lead and stared at the DCI’s retreating back. ‘So now I’m the station dog-sitter?’
* * *
Pawel Nowicki was again on the reception desk at the Kenlybank Hotel when Clare and Jennifer Gilmartin arrived. DCI Gibson had made the hotel aware of Jennifer’s circumstances and Pawel greeted them with quiet courtesy, assuring her of their prompt attention should she require anything. Clare went with her to the room, which was one of the superior doubles. It was comfortably furnished with a view over fields of yellow and green
. She looked anxiously at Jennifer.
‘Will this be all right? Just for tonight?’
Jennifer attempted at a smile. ‘It’s lovely, thank you. And please thank Alastair for me. It was kind of him to arrange it.’
‘I will. And, if there’s anything else you need, anything at all, don’t hesitate to call.’
‘Just look after my Benjy, please.’
‘I will. He’ll be back with you tomorrow.’
As she walked down the broad staircase, feeling the plush carpet beneath her feet, Clare wondered if the DCI would have done the same for Angela Robb if her house had been a crime scene.
Somehow, she doubted it.
* * *
By the time Clare returned to the station the DCI had gone home for the night. Sara and the Edinburgh lads had also gone. Jim had returned from Tech Support and was catching up on paperwork, and Chris had taken Benjy for a walk. There was a note for Clare from Gillian to say that no Land Rovers or Range Rovers had passed any of the St Andrews ANPR cameras between eleven and one on Saturday night. Clare sighed. Another dead end.
The incident room was blissfully quiet, the extra desks and chairs abandoned, the laptops closed. She sat down to think over what they had learned so far. There was a connection between the two victims. She was convinced of that but didn’t yet know what it was, and hoped that good, solid police work would throw up some results for Thursday evenings. She moved to the whiteboard and wrote herself a note to review possible connections between the victims in the morning. There were casinos and betting shops – they still needed checking, and she continued scribbling on the board. Stolen cars – that was a priority – she wrote this up, too. Bruce Gilmartin seemed to have no enemies and his wife was at a loss to make sense of his murder. Even Andy Robb’s womanising seemed a thin motive. Chris had said Andy’s phone calls and texts were mostly to people they had already checked out. There were a few rogue numbers but they didn’t seem hopeful. She added phone numbers to the board, just in case. His stash of broken laptops might help, though, and she noted this as well. A bark alerted her to Chris and Benjy’s return and she went to meet them.
See Them Run Page 10