Never Proven

by Bill Daly

  ‘He needed twelve stitches, but nothing life threatening, apparently.’

  ‘How is Chibundo Ikande bearing up?’

  ‘She’s a strong lady,’ Tony said. ‘She’s prepared to take the stand and testify that Harry Thompson impersonated a Home Office official and that he and Jim Colvin incited her to prostitution – and she says she’ll talk to some of the other girls who use the foodbank and try to get them to testify. What with that, and the GBH charge, it should be enough to get Colvin sent down for a long stretch.’

  ‘Arrange for a message to be sent to the Home Office,’ Charlie said. ‘Let them know that Chibundo was instrumental in getting a particularly nasty customer put away. I don’t know if that will cut any ice with the authorities as far as the lassie’s asylum status is concerned, but it can’t do any harm.’

  ‘Will do.’

  Having phoned ahead to let her know he would be across as soon as he could get away, it was after eight o’clock by the time Tony got to Sue’s place.

  ‘Is Jamie in bed?’ he asked when she came to the door.

  ‘Shhhh!’ Sue said, placing her index finger across his lips. ‘I’ve just got him settled down,’ she said in a whisper.

  Tony produced a chilled bottle of Prosecco from behind his back. ‘I thought you might fancy a nightcap,’ he said as he stepped across the threshold.

  ‘You’re incorrigible!’ Sue raised her eyebrows. ‘You do realise that I’ve got work to go to tomorrow?’

  ‘So have I.’

  ‘I’ve got a full timetable.’

  ‘And I’m going to have to put up with your Dad all day, starting at nine o’clock. That means I need a drink.’

  Sue smiled, stepping to one side to let him in. ‘Okay, but just the one glass for me.’

  ‘If you’re only going to have one glass, that means I’ll have to drink the rest of the bottle by myself,’ Tony said as he was stripping the foil from the cork. ‘Which means there’s no way I’ll be able to drive.’

  ‘I very much doubt if you’ll be able to do anything worth talking about if you drink the rest of the bottle.’

  ‘That sounds like a challenge.’

  ‘You wish!’ Sue said. ‘Go on through to the lounge and put on some music – and I mean quiet music – and I’ll fetch the glasses.’

  A Radiohead CD, with the volume turned right down, was playing when Sue came into the lounge with two wine glasses and a bowl of salted peanuts. Tony popped the cork on the Prosecco bottle and poured out their drinks.

  ‘How did you manage to get the wine chilled?’ Sue asked as she flopped down on the settee beside him.

  ‘It’s straight out of M&S’s cold cabinet.’

  ‘It’s nice,’ Sue said, taking a long, slow sip. ‘Very more-ish.’

  ‘Do I gather that madame might manage more than one glass?’

  Sue took a handful of peanuts and washed them down with a slurp of wine. She put her glass down on the coffee table. ‘Just to save you from yourself, madame might,’ she said, snuggling in to Tony.

  Tony wrapped his arm around Sue’s shoulders and pulled her closer towards him. Their eyes met – and then their mouths – their tongues interlocking in a long, languorous kiss.

  Easing Tony to one side, Sue stretched out to pick up her wine glass. Slowly draining the contents, she held it out for a refill. As Tony was topping up her glass, she leaned across and breathed into his ear. ‘Would sir prefer the bridle, or the three-line whip, tonight?’

  ‘You choose.’

  Tuesday 13 September

  Having parked his car in the underground car park in Pitt Street, Charlie glanced up at the sky as he walked back up the steep ramp. There were a few high clouds scudding across in the light breeze, but the weather forecast he’d heard on the car radio on the way into the office wasn’t too bad. Checking his watch, he saw that he had time to walk to Queen Street station and meet Tony, as arranged, at nine o’clock.

  When he got to George Square, Charlie saw Tony waiting for him outside the Millennium Hotel. Having purchased their train tickets at a booth, Tony headed over to the AMT caravan in the middle of the concourse to pick up two coffees while Charlie went to WH Smith’s to get a copy of The Herald.

  They boarded the nine-fifteen train to Edinburgh.

  ‘How did Mrs McVey react when you phoned her?’ Charlie asked as they were settling down in their seats.

  ‘Her initial reaction was blind panic when she thought her hubby would find out about what she and Gavin had been up to,’ Tony said, ‘but she calmed down when I explained that all we wanted to do was talk to her on her own.’

  ‘Where is old man today?’

  ‘He’s on an offshore oil rig, apparently. Somewhere off Orkney.’

  ‘With his secretary?’

  ‘I didn’t ask.’

  ‘Probably wise.’

  Leaning back in his seat, Charlie sipped at his coffee and flicked through the newspaper. Tony drank his coffee quickly, then dozed in his seat all the way through to Edinburgh.

  As the train was pulling into Haymarket Station, Charlie folded his paper and nudged Tony in the ribs.

  ‘Are you sure you’re getting enough sleep?’ Charlie asked pointedly.

  ‘I’m only knackered because I’ve been working too hard recently,’ Tony said, interlocking his fingers. Yawning wide, he stretched both arms high above his head.

  ‘Aye, right!’ Charlie grunted.

  The sun was filtering through the high clouds when Charlie and Tony emerged from the station. Crossing the main road at the traffic lights, they walked up Palmerston Place, as far as Rothesay Place, before turning into the classical Georgian terrace.

  The entrance to the McVeys’ apartment was half way along the terrace. When Tony rang the doorbell, Sheila McVey activated the intercom. He announced their presence.

  ‘It’s the second floor,’ she said as she buzzed to let them in.

  ‘Why does nobody live on the ground floor these days?’ Charlie complained as they walked up the two flights of stairs. Sheila was waiting for them on the landing. They showed her their warrant cards.

  Taking a seat beside Tony on the red-leather, Chesterfield settee, Charlie took out his notebook.

  ‘Before we begin, would you like something to drink?’ Sheila offered. ‘A cup of tea – or coffee?’

  ‘No, thanks,’ Charlie said, ‘we had coffee on the train.’

  Twisting her long hair round her fingers, Sheila sat down on the armchair opposite them.

  ‘I realise this is a delicate matter, Mrs McVey,’ Charlie stated, ‘but we do need to ask you a few questions.’

  Sheila nodded nervously.

  ‘When we spoke on the phone, you told me it was Lesley Adams who initially put you in touch with Gavin Carter.’

  ‘That is correct.’

  ‘Are you aware that Lesley and Gavin are an item?’ Tony interjected. ‘Have been for some time.’

  Sheila caught her breath. ‘That can’t be right,’ she stammered. ‘Lesley told me she was his social worker.’

  ‘That was the case at the time she contacted you,’ Charlie said. ‘The situation has developed since then.’

  Sheila clenched both her fists until her knuckles turned white. ‘Gavin forgot to mention that,’ she said quietly.

  Charlie paused for a moment to let the information sink in. ’A murder was committed in Glasgow at ten-thirty on the evening of Saturday, the third of September,’ he said, ‘for which Gavin Carter is a person of interest. When we interviewed him, he gave us what turned out to be a fictitious account of his movements at the time the murder was committed. However, he has since changed his story and he now claims to have been here with you, on the date and time in question.’

  ‘To substantiate his claim,’ Tony interjected, ‘he showed us a selfie he had on his phone of the two of you together.’

  ‘The bastard!’ Sheila hissed. ‘He promised me he’d deleted that photo.’ She started to blush furiously.
‘I don’t know what I was thinking about. It was my birthday and I’d had far too much to drink. I should never have allowed him to take it.’

  ‘Be that as it may,’ Charlie said, ‘can you confirm that Gavin Carter was here, with you, on Saturday the third of September at ten-thirty in the evening?’

  ‘Yes,’ Sheila said. She looked down at her feet. ‘Will my husband have to find out about this?’ she asked quietly.

  ‘He won’t find out about it from us,’ Charlie said.

  ‘Thank you.’

  *

  ‘Fancy a bite to eat before we head back to Glasgow?’ Charlie asked as he and Tony were walking back down Palmerston Place.

  ‘That sounds like a good idea,’ Tony said. ‘I’ve been to the Mercat a couple of times. It does decent pub food – and it’s not far from the station.’

  ‘Lead on.’

  After a bowl of minestrone and a cheese and ham sandwich in the Mercat, Charlie and Tony headed back to Haymarket Station where they caught the five-past three train to Queen Street.

  ‘I have to say that Gavin does not bad for himself,’ Tony commented as the train was pulling out. ‘Not only did he manage to get a job with Mrs McVey’s company, he got to screw the boss.’

  ‘When I spoke to Mrs McVey on the phone, she told me she was a sleeping partner in the business,’ Charlie said. ‘She gives a whole new meaning to the term.’

  Tony smiled.

  ‘I was just thinking,’ Tony mused as the train was gathering speed. ’Is the photo evidence Gavin showed us definitely conclusive?’

  ‘What are you getting at?’

  ‘Gavin knows his way around computers and smartphones. Is it possible that he might have doctored the date and time of the selfie on his phone?’

  Charlie narrowed his eyes. ‘You are not seriously asking me a technical question about a smartphone, are you? As you are very well aware, Tony, it’s only in the past couple of months that I’ve mastered the basics of texting.’

  ‘Let’s suppose, for the sake of argument, that Mrs McVey had agreed to provide Gavin with an alibi for the time of Preston’s murder,’ Tony surmised. ‘It could be that the selfie he showed us was taken on some other occasion – and Gavin found a way to alter the date and time of the photo on his phone.’

  Charlie shook his head emphatically. ‘That’s a complete nonstarter,’ he stated.

  ‘How can you be sure?’

  ‘Think it through, Tony. It’s plausible that Gavin could have persuaded Mrs McVey to provide him with an alibi – and he could’ve told her that he knew how to alter the date and time of a selfie on his phone. Whether or not that is technically possible, I haven’t the foggiest idea. For now, let’s suppose it is. Mrs McVey would realise that Gavin would have to show the selfie to the police to substantiate his alibi, so what do you think the chances are that she would have agreed to pose for a photo of herself, tits out, straddling Gavin and swigging champagne?’

  ‘When you put it like that….’

  ‘Mrs McVey didn’t strike me as stupid. She’d know that, if push came to shove, any selfie she agreed to pose for might end up being used as evidence in court – to say nothing of the possibility of it being brought to the attention of her old man. Trust me. If Mrs McVey had agreed to be in a photo with Gavin in order to provide him with an alibi, you can bet your bottom dollar that it would have been a demure shot of her and Gavin sitting at a table in her flat, discussing a contract for designing a computer game.’

  ‘So do you reckon Gavin is in the clear as far as Preston’s murder is concerned?’

  ‘It very much looks like it.’ Charlie scratched at his bald head. ‘But if that is the case, why did his uncle go to such great lengths to incriminate himself in order to set Gavin up with a fictitious alibi when he already had a rock solid one?’

  ‘Search me. Do you think it’s time we had another chat with Andy Carter?’

  ‘You’re beginning to read my thoughts, Tony. Who knows? We might make a detective of you yet.’

  It was after five o’clock by the time Charlie and Tony arrived back in Pitt Street. When he went into his office, Charlie found a note from his secretary lying on his desk, telling him that Superintendent Hamilton wanted to see him as soon as he got back.

  ‘I’d better go and see what’s biting his lordship’s arse,’ Charlie said. ‘I’ll be as quick as I can. Wait for me here.’

  Muttering under his breath, Charlie trudged up the flight of stairs at the far end of the corridor.

  ‘What is the latest status on the Preston case?’ Hamilton demanded as soon as Charlie walked into his office.

  ‘It would appear that one of our prime suspects, Gavin Carter, is able to prove that he was in Edinburgh at the time the murder took place,’ Charlie said.

  ‘Where does that leave us?’

  ‘There are other lines of enquiry that we will continue to pursue,’ Charlie said.

  ‘I have a meeting with the Chief Constable at noon tomorrow,’ Hamilton said, shuffling the papers on his desk as he got to his feet. ‘I’ll need an update on the status at ten o’clock.’

  It was after six o’clock by the time Charlie and Tony left the building and went down the stairs together to the underground car park.

  ‘I’ll drive,’ Charlie said, using his remote to unlock his car. ‘You can pick your car up later.’

  Getting behind the wheel, Charlie drove slowly, through the rush hour traffic, to Maryhill.

  Having climbed the stairs to Andy Carter’s flat, Tony hammered on the door with his closed fist.

  It was a full minute before Carter came to the door.

  ‘What the hell’s going on?’ he demanded as he opened up.

  ‘We didn’t bother trying to ring your bell,’ Charlie said as he and Tony stepped across the threshold. ‘We heard on the news on the way across that the national bell strike is still ongoing.’

  ‘What the fuck do you want now?’

  ‘Come on through and we’ll tell you all about it,’ Tony said, closing the door behind him and leading the way along the corridor to the kitchen.

  ‘This is harassment – to say nothing of trespass,’ Andy complained as he followed along behind them. ‘You can’t barge in here like that without a warrant.’

  ‘What do you think this is?’ Tony said, taking out his notebook and waving it aloft.

  ‘I suggest you cooperate with us, Carter,’ Charlie stated.

  ‘Why the hell should I?’

  ‘Sit down and we’ll tell you.’

  Glowering, Andy Carter slumped down on a kitchen chair.

  ‘First, let me tell you something that will be of interest to you,’ Tony said. ‘There’s no point in you ordering another consignment of rusty nails for the time being, because your erstwhile business associate is going to be out of circulation for quite a while.’

  Carter’s eyes narrowed.

  ‘But that’s not the reason we’re here tonight,’ Tony continued. ‘We’re here because we want to know where you were, who you were with, and what you were doing at ten-thirty on the night of Saturday the third of September.’

  ‘For fuck’s sake! I’ve told you that a dozen times. What more do you want me to say?’

  ‘How about the truth, for a change?’

  ‘The truth is that I was in The Jaco, nailing Jack Mulgrew’s hand to the bog door.’

  ‘So far, so good. Who was with you?’

  ‘My nephew, Gavin.’

  Tony shook his head slowly from side to side. ‘That’s the wrong answer. Gavin was in Edinburgh on the night in question – shagging some bird.’

  ‘That’s complete and utter shite!’

  ‘Not according to Gavin,’ Tony said. ‘He even has a selfie to prove it.’ Andy’s eyes narrowed, but didn’t react. ‘Apparently, it was the bird’s birthday,’ Tony continued. ‘And, as befits the occasion, Gavin took a photo of them in their birthday suits, swigging champagne while they were humping. A touch of class there, don�
�t you think?’

  ‘I’m not falling for any of this crap,’ Andy snarled. ‘Do you think I was born yesterday?’

  ‘I think maybe it’s time you had a wee chat with Gavin,’ Tony said, a smile playing on his lips. ‘It you ask him nicely, he might even show the selfie. It’s well worth a look – nice pair of tits.’

  Lesley and Gavin were sitting side by side on the settee, watching an old film on television, when the doorbell rang.

  ‘Are you expecting someone?’ Gavin asked as he hit the freeze button on the remote control.

  ‘No.’

  Gavin dragged himself to his feet and went to the front door.

  ‘Who is it?’ he asked over the intercom

  ‘I’ve got a delivery for Lesley Adams.’ The male voice was high-pitched.

  ‘It’s the second floor,’ Gavin said, buzzing him in.

  Gavin opened the door of the flat and waited on the landing, his brow furrowing when he heard the sound of rapid footsteps running up the stairs. His jaw dropped when he saw the figure, brandishing a crowbar, charging towards him. Stepping back inside quickly, he slammed the door shut.

  Shards of splintered glass showered into Gavin’s face as the crowbar came crashing through the opaque glass panel in the door. A gloved hand reached inside and opened the Yale lock, then pushed the door open. As Gavin turned to run back along the hall, the hook of the flailing crowbar caught him round the ankles, causing him to fall flat on his face.

  ‘What the fuck are you playing at?’ Andy Carter screamed, throwing down the crowbar. Grabbing Gavin by the shoulders, he turned him onto his back.

  ‘Leave him alone!’ Lesley shouted as she ran out from the lounge, her closed fists hammering on Andy’s back.

  Andy shrugged her off and threw her across the hall, her head thumping off the far wall. ‘Stay out of this, you daft cow. This has got fuck all to do with you.’

  Andy knelt astride Gavin. ‘Answer my question! What the fuck are you playing at?’ Andy’s right fist thumped into Gavin’s forehead, splitting open his eyebrow. His left fist followed in quick succession, crunching into Gavin’s nose and causing blood to spurt all over the hall carpet.