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

by Ed James

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘He left me.’

  ‘He left you?’

  ‘I wasn’t enough for him. When you shone a spotlight on our existence, it made him question my commitment to him.’

  ‘Look, I’m sorry but you gave a false alibi in a murder inquiry. We weren’t trying to kink-shame you, but you were persons of interest in a serious case and acting like you were involved. And you’re lucky you kept your job.’

  ‘Lucky?’ Polly’s glare just deepened. ‘Because of you probing into my private life, you made me the embarrassment of this firm. I had to move to bloody Carnoustie to work in this godforsaken office. I liked working in Dundee.’

  ‘I can sympathise, but I’m not going to apologise for doing my job.’

  ‘Then I won’t for doing mine. As much as I’d love to help you, I’m the duty solicitor and I have to go and assist a client in dire need of protection from the police.’

  ‘We just need to understand the state of Mr Craigen’s divorce proceedings, then we’re out of here.’

  Polly stared at her for a few seconds, then tossed a document onto the desk. ‘There you go.’

  Vicky took the pages, still warm from the printer, and started flicking through them. ‘Can you summarise?’

  ‘I didn’t draft it.’

  ‘No, but you spoke to my colleague here and you managed to produce this copy pretty quickly, so I assume you’ve got some idea what’s in it.’

  ‘Well, we were close to a settlement.’

  ‘Go on?’

  ‘Louise was going to inherit the flat.’

  ‘And the house?’

  ‘To go to Mr Craigen.’

  ‘What about the business?’

  ‘She relinquished her claim on that. Against my advice, I hasten to add.’

  ‘Do you know why?’

  ‘I’m afraid not.’

  ‘When was it going to settle?’

  ‘We had our date in court on Friday. Obviously that won’t happen now.’

  ‘And Mrs Craigen will inherit his entire estate?’

  ‘Correct. And I know what you’re thinking but there’s nothing else I can shed on the matter.’

  Vicky tried to find anything to disagree with, but it was all pointing in one direction. Louise Craigen benefited most from her husband’s death. Vicky got to her feet. ‘Thanks for your help with this.’ She held Polly’s gaze. ‘And I mean it.’

  IT WAS MUCH EASIER to park outside the flat than the previous day. No heavy foot traffic, just a ton of litter the council hadn’t cleared yet, though hopefully the Open’s organisers were paying for it.

  MacDonald was standing outside, mirror shades on and those Apple headphones in, the stupid little sticks without cables.

  Vicky got out of her car and walked over. He didn’t seem to be aware of her presence, so she waved a hand in front of his face.

  He jolted, but soon recovered his composure, easing out his earbuds and placing them in a case like his heart wasn’t thundering hard. ‘Didn’t see you there.’

  ‘You listening to The Best of Climie Fisher?’

  MacDonald laughed. ‘Don’t knock them.’

  ‘They had, what, one single?’

  ‘Oh, Victoria Dodds, you have much to learn.’ MacDonald pocketed the box. ‘No, I was listening to that podcast. See No Evil? Good find, by the way.’

  ‘Wish I could take credit. You get anything?’

  ‘Not yet. I’ve asked Karen Woods to go through it.’

  ‘As have I.’

  ‘Well, she’s got anger issues, that kid.’

  ‘Kid? She’s older than you.’

  All she got was a shrug. ‘Your old man definitely spoke to Louise?’

  ‘For four hours, he reckons.’

  ‘Christ. Worth getting Karen to transcribe that file?’

  ‘I doubt it.’

  ‘Agreed. She’s not exactly setting the heather alight, is she?’

  Vicky held his gaze. ‘What do you mean by that?’

  ‘Wait, you think there’s no— Okay. Right.’

  No point arguing with the creepy bastard. ‘Are you getting anywhere with the guest list?’

  ‘No. And that’s what I’m talking about. Karen Woods is so slow she might as well carry her house on her back.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘She’s like a snail. I need to have that chat again with Forrester about getting some better resource in. Hate not getting my way, I tell you.’

  Vicky didn’t want to get into it here.

  ‘Thought you had Considine with you?’

  ‘I did.’ Vicky walked over to the flat and hit the buzzer. ‘Got him chasing up their bank statements.’

  ‘Good idea.’

  Even when MacDonald was complimenting her, Vicky still wanted to strangle him. She looked him in the eye. ‘I bumped into Zoey at Craigen’s flat.’

  MacDonald just stood there, running a tongue over his lips.

  Still no response on the buzzer.

  So Vicky pressed the next-door neighbour’s buzzer.

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘Police, sir. Need access to the stairwell.’

  ‘Rightio.’

  The door buzzed and clicked open.

  MacDonald gestured for her to go first.

  So she trotted up the stairs, past the potted plants on the first floor, then the next flight.

  A tall old man was standing in the doorway opposite Louise Craigen’s flat, hunched over and with extremely thick specs. ‘Mind if I see your warrant card?’

  Not that he’d be able to read anything on it. But Vicky held hers out. ‘Here you go. DS Dodds and this is DS MacDonald.’

  ‘So they’re sending two sergeants to report a break-in these days?’

  ‘A what?’

  He gestured over the hallway. The flat door hung open. ‘Just seems a bit fishy to me, but what would I know. Ex-job myself. Been retired fifteen years. Still don’t miss it.’

  ‘Thanks, sir. Now if you can return to your home.’ Vicky stepped over and snapped out her baton. ‘Shall we?’

  ‘I’ll call it in, you—’

  A scream tore out from inside.

  ‘Sod it.’ Vicky nudged the door with her baton and stepped through the doorway.

  Another scream, but longer and quieter. Came from a door on the right.

  The first one hung open, showing a tidy bathroom stuffed with bottles of products. As Vicky approached the second, her nose was tickled by the aroma of bleach. She stopped outside the door and peered in.

  A bedroom. Teri Craigen, Louise’s daughter, knelt in front of the bed, crying hard.

  Behind her, Louise Craigen lay on the bed, her lidless eyes staring right at Vicky. Jordan Russell lay next to her. Both dead.

  20

  Vicky stood in the car park, hanging below the penthouse apartment with the two bodies inside. The haar was close to clearing now.

  She leaned against the SOCO van and looked up. Jenny Morgan and her team were inside, but the only sign of their presence was brief camera flashes.

  What the hell was going on? Vicky had no idea, but she needed to get one and soon.

  Louise Craigen could be scratched from their suspects list. Vicky shut her eyes, but just got flashes of Louise’s lidless gaze staring right at her.

  Back in the here and now, Teri grabbed her shoulders, wrapping herself tight. Finding your mother’s dead body like that would scar her for life.

  MacDonald was consoling her, head tilted to the side. ‘Look, I know how hard it must be discovering—’

  ‘My mum and him?’ But it didn’t seem to be the most upsetting part of the discovery… ‘My dad worked with him and…’ She shook her head, half laughing, half crying. ‘How long was that going on?’

  ‘Teri, we’re going to find out, okay? Whatever you need, we’re going to do it. Okay?’

  ‘Will you find out who killed them?’

  ‘I can’t promise that, Teri, but I’ve been doing this twelve y
ears. Every case I’ve worked, we caught the perpetrator.’

  She looked at him with her mother’s intense eyes, but didn’t say anything, just ran a hand through her long hair, fanning it out.

  ‘Teri, can I get you anything? Cup of tea? Can of Coke?’

  ‘I’ve lost both my fucking parents! The last thing I want is a can of fucking Coke!’

  ‘I understand.’

  ‘Do you?’

  ‘I do. When I was younger than you, I found my dad’s body. I know how hard it is. Trust me.’

  Teri looked away, nodding.

  ‘Sure I can’t get you anything?’

  ‘A Pepsi would be good.’

  He gave a smile. ‘I’ve only got Coke.’

  And she smiled back. ‘That’ll do.’

  ‘Come on.’ He led her over to his car. ‘I’ve got a cool box in the boot. Hate it when my cans get warm.’

  Vicky followed them, easing past the lumbering uniforms guarding the entrance, but she kept her distance, letting MacDonald work his wonders. The number of times she’d done this, she was numbed to it.

  ‘The man in there?’ Teri took a sip of Coke and stared at the can like it was responsible for their deaths. ‘Uncle Jordan.’ Naming him made her gasp. ‘He worked with my dad for years. I’ve known him all my life. There are, like, photos of me in hospital, with Mum and Dad, and he’s there in the background. Him and Dad did everything together.’

  Vicky wondered how long it’d been going on. If Jordan Russell had been sharing more than just lust, if he’d been involved in Teri’s conception. But it was so easy for thoughts like that to telescope, to grow and spread, and she had no evidence. As far as Teri knew, Jordan Russell was just Uncle Jordan. Nothing more, nothing less.

  Would a DNA test help?

  No, what they seemed to be facing was someone who was targeting people for adultery, just like at the lighthouse. Both parties in a marriage were now dead, along with their new partners.

  Just like Atreus.

  She couldn’t help but think that MacDonald was doing a superb job of it. Then again, it was the flipside of his sleaziness. The sexual predator is an expert at human psychology, at exploiting weaknesses in their victims to their own ends. Teri wasn’t so different from a girl in a bar or on Tinder, and he could use the same techniques in both places. Seem like their friend, like he was on their side.

  Vicky walked over to them and smiled at Teri, then waited for her to stare back. ‘Your dad and Uncle Jordan, did they ever argue or fight?’

  ‘Sure.’ Teri finished her drink and crushed her can. ‘I mean, all the time. But it never meant anything. They were like brothers.’

  A red Fiesta pulled up in the middle of the road and a woman got out, then rushed over to the pair of uniforms guarding the entrance to the car park. ‘Let me in or so help me God I will sue you to oblivion!’

  The taller uniform stood firm, despite the threat of violence in her raised fists. ‘Ma’am, we can’t let you in.’

  Vicky walked over, leaving Teri to MacDonald. ‘Can I help?’

  The woman was mid-twenties, her dark hair shaved up the side and her fringe cut into a wedge, lined with orange highlights. She had the most intense stare Vicky had seen this side of a prison. Definitely a Craigen. ‘Where’s Teri?’

  Vicky smiled at her. ‘You’re her sister?’

  ‘That’s right. I’m Pamela.’ She frowned. ‘And you are?’

  ‘Vicky Dodds. I’m a detective based in Dundee.’ She held out her warrant card. ‘Your sister’s over here.’ She led her across the fresh asphalt.

  Teri was now sitting on the Subaru’s boot.

  ‘This cop came to my door and broke the news, and I tried calling Teri but she’s not answering her phone.’ She gritted her teeth and reset her fringe over her eye. ‘I want to help. Is she okay?’

  ‘She’s speaking to a colleague. She… found their bodies.’

  ‘Christ.’ Pamela slapped a hand to her forehead. Then frowned at Vicky. ‘Did you say bodies?’

  ‘I did.’

  ‘That cop…’ Pamela nibbled at her top lip. ‘Buchanan I think his name was, he said there was a man with Mum. Was it Jordan?’

  ‘You knew about them?’

  ‘Mum was definitely involved with him. I came back one day, here, and they were both in. Not doing anything, but… She didn’t want to come out about it, because it’d be hypocritical of her after her nuclear reaction to catching Dad with some young tart in our sun lounge.’

  And that explained why Louise wouldn’t want to live there, wouldn’t even want to talk about it.

  She looked across the car park to MacDonald and her sister. ‘Look, can I speak to Teri?’

  ‘In a minute. Your parents were divorcing, right?’

  ‘That’s true. Their marriage had been a sham for years. Since I went to uni, really. Mum said they were just waiting until Teri left. Then she found Dad with her like a year ago. Our lives were in a bit of turmoil because of it. I mean, that sack of shit kicked Mum and Teri out. I was okay. Got a flat in Dundee. And Audrey is through in Edinburgh. Dad paid her accommodation in advance. But…’ She tailed off, shaking her head.

  ‘You know her?’

  ‘Nope.’ She looked up at the flat and seemed to shiver. ‘Dad put her up here. I mean, talk about a cliché. Getting a flat for your young mistress.’

  ‘Did you still talk to him after that?’

  She exhaled slowly. ‘My dad was a man you had to play. Everything was transactional with him. Because he was rich, I relied on him for funding for my PhD. So I had to butter him up.’

  ‘He never introduced you to his new partner?’

  ‘No, and he’d deny he was seeing anyone. Total bullshit, but there was always a point where you had to just let him get what he wanted, make him feel like an honourable father, just to get some cash off him.’

  ‘How old are you?’

  ‘Twenty-four. Why?’

  ‘You just said your father’s mistress was the same age as you.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘We still don’t have an ID for her.’

  Pamela let out a hefty sigh. ‘Don’t look at me.’

  But Vicky was. Cogs were whirring, pins were slotting into place. The more she thought about it, the more connections she could form.

  Growing up in a house full of books about serial killers, particularly Atreus, with a mother so obsessed that she recorded a podcast about it. That was the kind of thing that would warp your mind, wasn’t it?

  But then again, that was the same with people obsessed with JFK’s assassination or 9/11 being an inside job. Connections seemed to be everywhere.

  ‘In your father’s house, we found a load of books.’

  Pamela sighed. ‘Mum was really into Atreus, like some people are into Madeline McCann or whatever.’

  ‘The serial killer?’

  ‘If you ask me, part of why their marriage went so badly wrong was she had this big giant brain and he expected her to just be a housewife. I’m not saying that’s a bad thing, but it wasn’t for her.’

  ‘You didn’t feel like she wanted you?’

  ‘I’m not saying that. She loved us girls. But she felt frustrated. So that’s why she started that podcast. She was a huge fan of Serial, listened to it over and over again, found tons just like it. So she did one about Atreus, but it never really took off.’

  ‘You ever ask her why she was so obsessed with that case?’

  ‘Because it was local and because it happened when she was young, back in the nineties. The male victim in the Ferry case was in her year at school. It totally freaked Mum out.’ Pamela frowned. ‘Wait a sec. Your surname… You’re not George Dodds’s daughter, are you?’

  Vicky gave a reluctant nod. ‘For my sins.’

  ‘She talked about him a lot. He was generous with his time.’

  ‘Did the episode with my dad go out?’

  Pamela shook her head. ‘Not that I know of.’ She grimaced. ‘Can
I see the bodies?’

  ‘That’s not to be advised.’

  ‘But you need someone to identify her, right?’

  Vicky looked over at Teri. ‘Your sister found them.’

  ‘My God.’ Pamela shut her eyes. ‘I need to be there for her.’

  ‘That’s fine. We’re done now. Give me a second.’ Vicky left her and crossed the car park.

  MacDonald was nodding slowly, his face tight and focused on Teri. He glanced round at Vicky.

  She leaned in to whisper, ‘You done?’

  ‘Just about.’

  Vicky beckoned Pamela over and handed her a business card. ‘We might need to speak to you again, but if you need anything from us, call me. Day or night.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Pamela gave her another intense look. ‘Catch the bastard who did this.’

  ‘We’ll do our best.’

  Pamela wrapped her sister in a deep hug. They didn’t look that similar, with Pamela about a foot taller.

  Vicky led MacDonald away from them. ‘You get anything?’

  ‘Just a daft lassie.’

  The two uniforms separated to let Prof Arbuthnott through, lugging her medical bag over to the flat entrance, and another uniform. Jenny Morgan stepped out, clocked Vicky and turned around to go back inside.

  Vicky didn’t know what that was all about. She needed to focus on other things, things she could control. Like suspects. ‘You don’t think Teri knows anything?’

  ‘Never seen her dad’s girlfriend. Far as I can tell, anyway.’

  ‘Same with Pamela. She mention any likely names?’

  ‘Nope. Like I say, she’s a daft lassie. Too young to know what’s going on. What about your one?’

  ‘My one?’ Vicky took a deep breath. ‘I’d say there’s a slight possibility that she’s done this.’

  ‘Even though she’s female?’

  ‘Christ, Euan, where do you get off?’

  ‘Wherever anyone lets me.’

  ‘Seriously. “My one. Daft lassie. Even though she’s female.” Really?’

  ‘Look, I’ve worked much bigger cases than you. More of them, too. Not a woman doing this. Big guy, I’d say. Strong too.’

  ‘So you’re a criminal profiler now?’

  ‘Just giving my expert opinion.’

  ‘Is there more of this expertise?’