Flesh and Blood (DS Vicky Dodds Scottish Crime Thrillers Book 2)

by Ed James

  The door chimed.

  Something speared Vicky’s heart. The note, still in her pocket. Were they back? Or was it her old man, ready for round two? She put her wine down. ‘I’ll get it.’

  ‘Have your tea.’

  ‘You watch the golf. You’ll want to see Tiger winning.’

  ‘Thanks for the spoiler.’

  ‘I’m joking.’ She kissed his cheek, then shuffled through the house, mussing up her hair but also making sure her baton was within easy grasp. She eased the door open and stopped dead.

  ‘Evening, Vicks.’ Alan stood there, hands in his pockets, smiling like there was nothing weird about Bella’s father turning up out of the blue. He’d lost weight, but his sideburns now reached down to his jawline. He wore a short-sleeved shirt showing off overdeveloped biceps, his quiff swept round in a long indie boy fringe, but greying badly. And she still towered over him. ‘Is that the annoying guy from Friends staying in your house?’

  Vicky felt that deep pain in her gut, but it spread to her chest and arms, down both legs. ‘They’re all annoying.’

  ‘True.’ He laughed. ‘I remember you used to have a Rachel.’

  Vicky stepped out and ran a hand through her hair. ‘It didn’t suit me.’

  ‘Beg to differ.’

  ‘You left that note, didn’t you?’

  Alan nodded. ‘Sorry, didn’t want Mr Lover Man to see me.’

  ‘You could’ve put your name and number on it.’

  ‘Where would the fun be in that? Besides, my number hasn’t changed since you dumped me.’

  She folded her arms. ‘How did you find me?’

  ‘It’s not just you, Vicks, is it?’

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  ‘Well.’ He flashed up his eyebrows. ‘Just wondering whether I can see my kid.’

  Vicky had played this out in her head so many times. Too many times. Far too many. She could play this any number of ways. Deny Bella even existed? Open up, let him into their lives? Or fight him. But in the here and now, it all just crumbled to nothing. ‘She’s six, Alan, and this is the first time you’re interested in seeing your own daughter?’

  ‘It’s not like you actually told me I was a father, is it?’

  Vicky’s mouth was dry. She needed the whole bottle of wine just to dampen it a touch. ‘You’re still a dickhead, then?’

  He just gave a flash of his eyebrows.

  She swallowed. ‘What do you want?’

  ‘I see you’re in a settled relationship again.’

  ‘I’m a stepmother too.’

  ‘You married him?’

  ‘No, but I’m happy for the first time in years.’

  ‘I’m very pleased to hear it. Trouble is, Bella’s still my daughter.’

  So he knew her name. Christ, how did he find out? Like most cops, Vicky stayed off the internet as much as she could. On Schoolbook, she used her mother’s maiden name, Kidd, so no numpties could track her down. And yet one had. The worst one.

  ‘Look, I can’t just—’

  ‘You’re saying that if I’d just called, you’d put whatever you were doing aside to talk to me and let me speak to her?’

  ‘I’m saying nothing.’ But Vicky couldn’t afford to be the bad guy here, so she folded her arms again. ‘Alan, now isn’t the time for this. I need you to go. I’ll call you later. Your number hasn’t changed, after all.’

  He seemed to think it through, then nodded. ‘Okay. But don’t take your time.’

  Vicky watched him go, that same uneven stride. He looked back and blew her a kiss.

  What the hell did she ever see in him?

  ‘Who was that?’ Behind her, Rob was standing in the doorway.

  ‘Wrong address. Someone looking for a golf party.’ She sniffed, and knew it was her tell, but she couldn’t prevent herself from doing it. ‘Sorry, it’s not. It was Alan.’

  Rob frowned at her. ‘As in…?’

  ‘As in.’

  Rob stood up straight and flexed his fists like he was going to chase after him and beat the living shit out of him with his bare hands. ‘Thanks for telling me the truth.’

  She shrugged. ‘This isn’t easy, but lying about it isn’t going to make it any easier.’

  ‘Why was he here?’

  ‘I have no idea. And I’ve no idea how he found out about Bella.’ Vicky collapsed into Rob’s arms. ‘I’m sorry I lied.’

  ‘It’s okay.’ Rob broke off the hug and led her inside by the hand. He sat her down in the kitchen and handed her the wine glass. ‘We need to decide on a strategy.’

  ‘I know. I’ve had years to plan, but now it’s here and he’s back and… and… Christ.’

  ‘Alan should have access to Bella.’

  ‘I know.’ Vicky sipped her wine. ‘And I know it’ll hurt, but it’s the right thing to do. I’ll speak to him and see what he wants.’

  ‘What he wants?’

  ‘Knowing Alan, he’ll be after something other than seeing Bella.’

  DAY 2

  Monday

  Monday, 23rd July 2018

  13

  Vicky bit into the toast and chewed as quickly as she could. The back garden sat in gloomy grey, yesterday’s sunny glow now replaced by thick haar, the wispy clouds passing across the lawn like an army of ghosts.

  And the strong coffee wasn’t helping clear her thick head. Just one glass of wine, but she felt like she’d been out for a long session with Karen and Jenny. Orange juice might shift it, so she tried that.

  But the small glass of red wine wasn’t behind it, more getting woken up at half five by two bodies jumping on a bed. And working a case in boiling heat without eating or drinking much, and just… everything whirring round her head. The truth about her father’s career.

  And Alan.

  Christ.

  A blur of energy squealed through the kitchen and thumped its fists against the patio door, then twisted the handle. ‘Mummy!’

  ‘Just a sec, Bells.’ Vicky bit into the second slice of toast and got up.

  But Jamie roared into the room, arms flailing. Tinkle shot off from her hiding place under the table. Bella squealed into Jamie and sent the poor kid flying. His glasses slid across the floor and Bella almost stood on them as she rushed out of the room.

  Vicky dropped her slice of toast onto the plate and rushed over to him. ‘Are you okay?’

  He was nodding furiously, looking around for his specs. ‘There they are.’ He reached over and pressed them on his nose, then got up and darted out of the room. ‘I’m coming for you!’

  ‘Watch out!’ Rob stepped aside to let his son past.

  Vicky slumped back onto the stool. ‘Well, good luck with them today.’

  ‘I’ll need a lot more than luck with those two.’ Rob came over and wrapped her in a hug, then kissed her on the top of her head, then he broke off and walked over to the filter machine. ‘You need a top up?’

  Vicky was staring into her cup just as her phone rang. Forrester calling… ‘Better take this.’ She hit answer and put it to her ear, mindful of the small kids wandering around. ‘What’s up?’

  ‘You guys get the Argus?’

  ‘The Edinburgh paper?’

  ‘Aye. Do you?’

  ‘It’s 2018, nobody reads newspapers any more.’

  ‘Okay. Well, can you look at the bloody front page on a computer?’

  ‘Just a sec.’ Vicky reached over for Rob’s tablet, smothered in jam and orange juice. She put her phone down to wipe it clean. Then it unlocked, and she was in and typing “the argus”.

  The page blared out:

  BACK FROM THE DEAD

  The main article had a photo of Jim Sanderson smiling in his business suit. Inset was one outside the High Court in Edinburgh; presumably the man in a purple suit talking to a news camera was his solicitor. The page was shadowed by many other articles about Atreus, all hunting for those elusive clicks and that advertising spend.

  But the byline undern
eath crawled under her skin.

  Alan Lyall.

  Shit, shit, shit.

  She picked up the phone and put it to her ear. ‘I’ve skimmed it. What’s upset you?’

  ‘There’s a lot more in there than what Raven briefed them about last night. Keep an eye on it for me.’

  ‘What makes you think I know anything?’

  Forrester laughed. ‘Because you and this Lyall lad have a history.’

  ‘A long dead history.’

  ‘Vicky, I need you to speak to him.’

  She huffed out a sigh. ‘And I need to not speak to him.’

  ‘Pretty please?’

  ‘Is this who Raven was door-stepped by?’

  ‘Obviously.’

  ‘And you asked Mac to speak to him.’

  ‘I did, but I think I need my big guns on this.’

  ‘You don’t think that’d be a conflict of interest? It’s a no.’ Vicky locked the tablet and rested it on the worktop. ‘Look, I need to go. I’ll speak to you later.’

  ‘Not so fast.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Thought about it overnight. Can you chum Mac to this Craigen boy’s office, see what his workers know?’

  ‘So I’m working for him?’

  ‘With him. He can do all his analytical Rain Man shite, you can actually get to the bottom of what Craigen was up to. Guys like that, they’ll be boasting about the young lassie they’re porking.’

  ‘Porking? Haven’t heard that in a long time.’

  ‘I’m joking, but that’s how these boys think. Loose lips sink ships and all that.’

  ‘Right. I’ll call you later.’ She ended the call before he could complain again.

  ‘Sounds like another long work day ahead?’ Rob passed her a coffee mug, steam spiralling up like the haar outside.

  ‘Probably.’ Vicky took one last bite of toast and fiddled with her phone. She had to unblock Mac’s contact to text him a curt: “Call Me”. ‘I get the feeling this case will go on for weeks.’

  ‘Weeks?’

  She started her second coffee, even though she knew she’d need the toilet all day. ‘I shouldn’t tell you this, but it’s the same MO as a case my dad worked in the nineties.’

  ‘Seriously?’

  ‘A serial killer case. They called him Atreus.’

  Rob nodded. ‘I know all about that one. Read a book about it. Wasn’t there a podcast?’

  ‘A podcast?’

  ‘You know, a serialised radio show distributed by—’

  ‘I know what a podcast is.’ But Vicky had her phone out and tapped out a text to Karen: “There’s an Atreus podcast. Dig into it for me.” Hopefully that’d be enough.

  ‘The Atreus guy died, didn’t he?’

  ‘He did.’ Vicky put her phone down again. ‘Speaking of murder, what’s your plan today?’

  ‘I was going to take the little serial killers to Dundee. That science exhibition thingy is doing something about computer games. I know Jamie’s not into them, but Bella can’t get enough, can she?’

  ‘No, she really can’t.’

  ‘Does she get that from her father?’

  A horn peeped outside and her phone buzzed with a text. Mac: “Outside, ready when you are.”

  ‘Christ.’

  ‘What’s up?’

  ‘Just work.’ She walked over and kissed Rob on the cheek. ‘I need to go. Love you, bye.’

  But Rob held her hand. ‘You need to control the Alan situation, okay? Bella’s needs are more important than our egos.’

  ‘Okay, I’ll get on top of it today.’ She caressed his cheek. ‘And I might get on top of you later, if you’re a good boy.’

  OUTSIDE, MacDonald was sitting in the pool Subaru, the engine running and the exhaust pluming in the haar.

  Vicky shivered as she walked through the freezing cold air. It might be July, but it was still the north-east of Scotland and it was still battered by haar. She opened the passenger door. The living room curtains were twitching.

  MacDonald leaned across. ‘You’re a bit more professionally dressed today.’

  She smoothed down her trousers. ‘Why are you here?’

  ‘Boss’s orders. Told me to take you down to speak to Craigen’s business.’ MacDonald checked his watch. ‘Supposed to be meeting the number two at half seven.’

  ‘Christ, that’s early.’

  ‘Tell me about it. You want to hop in?’

  ‘Like I’d want to be stuck with you. I’ll meet you there.’

  ‘Oh, right.’ MacDonald frowned. ‘You know you’re not allowed to drive your own car on duty?’

  ‘I’ll be fine. I’ve got good insurance.’

  Rob came out onto the front step with Bella to wave her off.

  Vicky returned the wave just as Jamie joined them.

  MacDonald glanced in the rearview. ‘Now there’s a beta male right there.’

  Vicky didn’t even look at him. She shut the door and walked towards her own car, waving at the love of her life.

  THE ONCOMING COMMUTER traffic on the long road into Carnoustie was all blocking them as they headed for Dundee, not that Carnoustie wasn’t much more than a long road.

  MacDonald’s Subaru was racing through the housing estate to the main road. Boys and their toys…

  And where did he get off, accusing Rob of being a beta male? Like he was some amazing catch.

  She pulled across the roundabout and headed down Westfield Street. Her old house looked empty. She turned left onto Thomas Street. Bella and Jamie’s school sat back from the road, almost hidden by the haar. A new build that used to be a park, though not one she’d frequented much as a kid.

  In the distance, a crane jutted out of the mist, swinging around as it put the finishing touches to a housing development that’d just missed the Open and probably wouldn’t fill up until the next one.

  She caught sight of MacDonald parking outside a sprawling office complex built out of old mill buildings. In Manchester or Dundee, they were elegant buildings, converted into upmarket apartments or museums, but here in Carnoustie they were just big concrete boxes thrown up in the sixties and left to fester until Derek Craigen came along. The roof had been opened out like his home, with a balcony that would have a great view across most of the golf course. The “DC Energy” sign must be big enough to be seen from Fife and, even though it was early, the car park was almost full.

  Vicky grabbed the last space and got out.

  A man and a woman in business suits met each other in the car park, smiling and chatting as they ambled over to the door. Clearly the message of the boss’s death hadn’t been relayed to the staff.

  MacDonald was already outside his car, wearing his shades in the gloom.

  Vicky walked over. ‘You know, I’ve lived in Carnoustie most of my life and I don’t think I’ve been here before.’

  ‘And they say you can’t teach an old dog new tricks?’

  ‘Jesus, Euan.’

  ‘I’m joking!’ He held up his hands. ‘What did Forrester want after I left?’

  ‘A blowjob.’

  He looked at her like he believed it, then laughed. ‘But seriously?’

  ‘Nothing much.’

  ‘So it was about me, then.’

  ‘No, it was about me.’

  ‘Fair enough.’ MacDonald sighed. ‘Considine is a piece of work, isn’t he?’

  ‘Well, aye, but what’s he done now?’

  ‘After you cleared off last night, I went to find him, but he’d foxtrot oscared and left Louise Craigen on her own in the mortuary with her kid. So I dropped her back home.’

  Vicky wanted to ask if that’s all he did, but that would mean stooping to his level. ‘How was she?’

  ‘Not great. She just sat in the back seat, holding her daughter. Teri or something? Must be tough for her. Losing her old man during a shitty divorce. When I turned off the high street towards her flat, she started talking, though. Asked me in for a coffee.’

  Vic
ky looked round at him. ‘Seriously?’

  ‘Mind out of the gutter, Dodds.’ He shook his head. ‘She needed to talk so I went in with her. Kid was with us the whole time. And it all just poured out. All the stuff that clown Considine was supposed to get, I got. A list of business rivals that boiled down to three people in Southend, Newcastle and Perth. Got phone appointments with them later on. Don’t think it’s a valid avenue, but I’ll go through the motions like my old man.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Civil engineer. Spent a lot of time in sewers, wading through…’ He coughed, then took off his shades and put them back in the car. ‘Look, I thought about it overnight and I’m starting to agree with you about Louise being a suspect. If they’re not divorced, then she does stand to inherit the lot, the house, the flat,’ he waved at the office, ‘this business. That’s a serious motive.’

  ‘Becoming an expert in family law, huh?’

  ‘Has the boy found anything on the company’s financial health?’

  ‘The boy? Considine?’

  ‘Right.’ MacDonald smiled. ‘He’s, what, thirty, but he acts like he’s fourteen at most. Being a right little twat about this Subaru too. Had to get in super early to make sure he didn’t claim it.’

  ‘And now who’s acting like a silly wee boy.’

  ‘Answer’s no. The company seems to be in fine health. And both properties were owned outright by Mr and Mrs Craigen.’

  ‘Okay, so let’s see if that “seems to be” translates to “actually is”.’

  14

  Jordan Russell’s office didn’t look like it belonged in seaside Angus, but rather a London hotel or an Oxford college. Oak-panelled walls and a large fussy desk, with no sign of a computer. Like he was teaching in a private school rather than being Chief Operating Officer of a Tayside plumber. Slicked-back hair and the physique of a gym monkey, his chiselled body stretching out his pinstriped suit, with a big moon face and a disc beard surrounding his pale lips. ‘Sure you don’t want any coffee?’

  Vicky smiled. ‘Had some for breakfast.’

  ‘Okay.’ Russell reached forward and poured smoky black coffee from a silver pot, similar to one she’d seen in that cafe in Harrogate where Rob had taken her last summer. Russell passed a cup over to MacDonald. ‘Here you go. Think you’ll enjoy it.’