In Plain Sight

by In Plain Sight (retail) (epub)

  ‘Very well, thanks, Elaine. Busy with this investigation.’

  Elaine peered over her specs at Clare. ‘Not too busy for a matter of officer welfare, I hope.’

  Clare gave Elaine her best smile and led her to an interview room. Sara, who had arrived at work five minutes before, trailed in after them.

  ‘PC Stapleton must not be required to do anything which will compromise her health or that of her unborn baby,’ Elaine was saying.

  ‘Yes, Elaine, I do know—’

  ‘Equally, she must not be discriminated against on account of her gender or her pregnancy.’

  Sara looked mortified by this unwanted attention. Clare gave her a surreptitious wink. Elaine began discussing dates and maternity pay with Sara, and Clare allowed her thoughts to wander. She had been focusing so much on Abi and Lisa that she’d paid little heed to who might have killed Paul Sinclair. They had found an address for him in Alderwood, north Dundee. That same housing estate again. Why did everything point to there? And was Susan Clancy involved? As far as Clare could tell, Susan didn’t have the medical knowledge to steal the correct dosage of digoxin, but maybe she knew someone who did. Her thoughts went back to Paul Sinclair’s house. SOCO hadn’t found anything but they had been concentrating on finding a link to Abi. Maybe there was something else to be found there. Something that would fill in the gaps…

  ‘And when Sara returns to duty…’ Elaine was saying.

  Clare rose suddenly. ‘Elaine, I’m so sorry but there’s something I need to do and it can’t wait.’

  Elaine’s lips tightened. ‘I hadn’t finished.’

  ‘Once you and Sara have agreed a course of action, just drop me an email, okay?’

  Clare rose to leave and Sara shot her a look that said Traitor. Out in the front office she made a beeline for Chris, but Tony saw her first.

  ‘Ah, Clare, remember I promised to bring you a shiny new DI?’

  Clare’s heart sank. He had done it. He was bringing someone else in over her head. ‘Actually, Tony, I’m a bit—’

  ‘DI Matt Fuller. He’ll be here in an hour. Bring him up to speed, will you?’

  ‘I just need to nip out.’ She grabbed Chris by the arm and steered him towards the exit.

  ‘Don’t mess me about, Clare. Be back here before Matt arrives or I may forget I’m a gentleman,’ Tony called after them.

  Out in the car park, Chris said, ‘What’s the rush? Or are you just trying to get away from Elaine?’

  Clare opened the car door and jumped in. ‘Get on the phone to Dundee. I want to look round Paul Sinclair’s house.’

  * * *

  The drizzle from the previous night had cleared and a watery sun was trying to break through. Clare drove as Chris tracked down the letting agency Paul Sinclair had rented from.

  ‘They’ll meet us there at eleven,’ he said. ‘Want to tell me what you’re thinking?’

  Clare was quiet for a moment as they drove past Railway Pizzas. Then she said, ‘We think Paul was killed by whoever ordered Abi’s abduction. But we’ve absolutely no idea who that person is. Maybe the answer lies in his house. Maybe if we look round, something will jump out.’ She signalled left at Leuchars and headed for Dundee. ‘Did you see the list of possessions found on the body?’

  Chris considered this. ‘Can’t remember really. No money, I remember that much.’

  ‘And no mobile phone.’

  ‘That’s not unusual. Most assault victims have their phones stolen.’

  ‘Paul Sinclair isn’t most assault victims. And no one mugs someone in the middle of an industrial estate then lugs them into a high-sided skip.’

  ‘That’s true.’

  ‘So if it wasn’t a mugging, why take his phone?’

  ‘Maybe it was a good one. Worth a few quid.’

  Clare approached the roundabout and headed north on the A92, towards the Tay Road Bridge. ‘Could be. Or maybe the killer didn’t want us to find the phone…’

  ‘Because his number would be on it,’ Chris finished. ‘Yeah, that makes sense.’

  ‘But if we can find Sinclair’s phone, or at least his number…’

  ‘The phone company will have a list of contacts.’

  ‘Exactly.’

  They fell silent for a few minutes, then Chris said, ‘Thinking back to that footage in the pharmacy…’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘He didn’t know what he was looking for. He was just grabbing anything he could find. But the other one…’

  ‘The one we think is a woman?’

  ‘Yeah,’ Chris said. ‘She – if it is a she – was being methodical, looking through the bottles. She knew what she was doing.’

  Clare glanced at him. ‘Looking for digoxin. We know that.’

  ‘But remember, it comes in three different strengths. This woman knew exactly what she wanted. Now how did she know that?’

  ‘You’re not thinking it’s an inside job?’

  ‘Someone from the pharmacy? Nah, I doubt it. The Dundee lot questioned the staff and there was no suggestion of anything like that. Besides, there’s no one working there with long red hair. But I do think the woman knew her way round the drugs shelves.’

  They were crossing the bridge now. Clare pulled the car off the bridge, passing the V&A Gallery. They fell silent as she drove on through the town. Then Clare said, ‘We keep coming back to the same two questions: who hired Paul to take Abi, and why?’

  ‘That note,’ Chris said. ‘Telling Lisa she’d been warned. Warned about what?’

  Clare shook her head. ‘The more I think about it, the more it looks as if Lisa Mitchell is involved in something dodgy.’

  ‘Like what?’

  Clare shook her head. ‘I’ve no idea, but why is someone warning her? And, assuming she ignored these warnings, what could she be doing that’s serious enough to make them take her baby?’

  Chris frowned. ‘Could be any number of things. Whatever she was doing, she’s upset someone by doing it.’

  ‘And I bet I know who.’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Think, Chris! Who’s just gone missing? Who were we trying to get hold of yesterday?’

  Chris thumped the dashboard. ‘Val bloody Docherty.’

  ‘Exactly.’

  They were nearing Alderwood now. Chris scrutinised the map on his phone. ‘Take a left here,’ he said. ‘Then second right and – it should be just along here.’

  Clare pulled the car up in front of the address the letting agent had given them. The houses were built in blocks, three storeys high, finished with battleship-grey harling. The walls were peppered with satellite dishes and some had new windows, suggesting the tenants had availed themselves of the Right to Buy scheme. The common close had a security panel with a keypad but there was no sign of anyone to let them in so she returned to her theory.

  ‘Right, let’s go with the idea that Lisa was involved in something illegal. If so, I reckon we have two possible scenarios.’

  ‘Which are?’

  ‘Either Lisa was working for Val and that’s upset someone else, or she was encroaching on Val’s territory and it’s Val who’s teaching her a lesson.’

  Chris nodded slowly. ‘And Val has conveniently disappeared.’

  ‘Right.’

  Chris sat back, running through Clare’s theory.

  ‘And,’ she continued, ‘there’s that big house in Barnton.’

  ‘What about it?’

  ‘They’re all big detached houses there. High hedges and the like. You could easily have a baby there and the neighbours would never know.’

  ‘She’s not there now, though, is she?’ Chris pointed out. ‘Did the neighbours not say she’d gone away for a few days?’

  ‘Yeah, that’s true. But maybe with Paul Sinclair’s body being splashed all over the news she thought she ought to disappear.’

  Chris sat.

  ‘What do you think?’ she asked.

  ‘I think, either way, we need to get hold
of Val Docherty.’

  A car pulled up behind them.

  ‘Looks like the letting agent,’ Clare said, opening the car door. ‘Come on. Let’s see what we can find out about Paul Sinclair.’

  * * *

  The house was a mess of coffee cups, beer bottles and overflowing ashtrays. There was a film of dust on the TV and an odour from the bathroom that suggested it was long overdue a clean.

  ‘He certainly won’t get his deposit back, with this mess,’ the agent said.

  Chris surveyed the room. ‘I’m not sure he’ll be bothered about that now.’

  Clare persuaded the agent to leave them the key. ‘We’ll return it when we’re finished.’

  The agent escaped, dusting down her coat as she went.

  Chris surveyed the mess. ‘Where do you want to start, Clare?’

  ‘We’re looking for anything that would help us find his mobile phone number.’ Her eyes fell on a foil container sitting on the kitchen sink board. Spores of mould were forming on what appeared to be the congealed remains of a meal. ‘See that?’

  ‘I’d rather not, thanks.’

  ‘I’d say that was our Mr Sinclair’s last supper.’ She put her nose closer to the container. ‘Curry.’

  She looked round the kitchen and then she saw it. A thin carrier bag bearing the logo of Spice and Rice Indian Restaurant. ‘See if you can get an address for this place.’

  Chris took out his phone and, after a minute or two, said, ‘Looks like it’s down Lochee Road. A couple of miles away.’

  ‘Phone them and see if they deliver to Alderwood. If so, we want to know if they delivered to this address in the last few days. Go back a week if necessary.’

  Clare’s phone began to ring. She glanced at the display. Tony. ‘I’m guessing Matt the Prat has arrived,’ she said, muting the phone. ‘I must be in a dead spot.’ And she put the phone back in her pocket.

  Seconds later, Chris was chatting to the owner of Spice and Rice. ‘He’s checking the address,’ he said, as Clare worked her way through the rest of the house. He spoke into the phone again then started scribbling a number on his hand. ‘Got it. Takeaway delivered on Saturday night about nine. I’ve got his mobile number here.’

  ‘Great! Let’s check the phone companies. If we can identify the network we can trace all the numbers he’s called or texted.’

  ‘And if one of them matches the number Lisa’s been calling?’

  ‘It could be his killer,’ Clare said.

  ‘Or Val Docherty, maybe.’

  Clare said, ‘Could be one and the same. Val could be our kidnapper and our killer.’

  ‘You really think so?’

  ‘God, Chris, I don’t know. But if it isn’t Val, then we’re stuffed. I’ve honestly no idea who it could be.’

  Chapter 25

  Clare drove back to St Andrews, while Chris phoned round network providers. By the time they reached the station he had spoken to Paul Sinclair’s phone company who promised him a list of numbers within the hour.

  Clare removed the keys from the ignition and opened the door. ‘Come on – let’s see what Matt the Prat has to say for himself.’

  Detective Inspector Matt Fuller was holding court in the incident room when Clare and Chris arrived back at the station. He seemed more like a football manager than a detective, dressed in suit trousers and a waistcoat, a narrow-striped tie knotted tightly at the neck. He was even wearing cufflinks, for God’s sake.

  ‘Ah, DI Mackay, I presume. I rather thought you’d be here to fill me in when I arrived.’

  Clare held out a hand. ‘Clare. And this is my DS, Chris West.’

  Matt Fuller ignored her hand. ‘The DCI tried to call you.’

  Clare met his eye. ‘Must have been in a dead spot. DS West and I were out on enquiries.’

  ‘Then perhaps you’d be good enough to fill me in on your progress to date. I’ll be heading up this enquiry, going forward.’

  Clare groaned inwardly. Going forward! Why did anyone say that? ‘With respect, Matt, this is my station and my case. I’m delighted to have an extra pair of hands but we’re both DIs. I’m sure we can work on this together.’

  Matt turned a curious eye on Clare. She wondered if he was unused to women standing up to him.

  ‘I think you misunderstand the situation, Clare,’ he said. ‘DCI McAvettie has asked me to take over this case. I have agreed and I’d be grateful for your full co-operation.’

  ‘Is that so?’ Clare didn’t flinch. ‘Well, I’ll speak to DCI McAvettie shortly but in the meantime, perhaps you’d like to hear our progress so far.’

  The room was deathly silent. Clare smiled at Matt, who opened his mouth to speak. And then the front door opened and two uniformed officers appeared with the hit-and-run passenger, safely discharged from hospital.

  ‘Where do you want him, boss?’ one of them asked Clare.

  ‘Interview Room One, please.’ She smiled at Matt. ‘Care to sit in?’

  * * *

  The lad was about eighteen, Clare thought. Nineteen at most. He sat slumped in the chair opposite Clare and Chris, his tattooed arms folded. Clare noted the plaster on his head and the bruises spreading out from it. His nose was cut over the bridge and his lips swollen.

  ‘Are you sure you feel up to being questioned?’ she asked.

  He nodded. ‘I just want it over and done with.’

  ‘Now, you’re entitled to legal—’

  ‘I don’t want a brief. Just get on with it.’

  ‘What’s your name?’

  ‘Danny Edwards.’

  ‘And your pal? The one who was driving?’

  Danny’s expression clouded at the mention of his friend. ‘Liam Paton.’

  ‘How is he?’ Clare asked.

  Danny shrugged. ‘Dunno. Not good.’

  ‘Can you tell us why you took the car?’

  ‘Just a bit of fun, like.’

  ‘And the keys? Where did you get them?’

  Danny avoided her eye. ‘Found them.’

  Matt Fuller leaned across the table. ‘Listen to me, son. You – are – in – deep – shit. A baby is missing and you’re riding round town in the mother’s car – the mother who is now also missing. So unless you come up with something that sounds even half plausible, I personally will see you go away for a very long stretch.’

  Clare flashed Matt a look but he ignored her.

  ‘I’m waiting.’

  Danny looked at Clare and she gave a slight nod. He looked back at Matt. ‘In a pub.’

  ‘They were just lying around in a pub?’ Matt said.

  ‘Sort of.’

  ‘Lying around in someone’s pocket, am I right?’

  Danny muttered something Clare didn’t hear.

  ‘What was that, Danny?’ she asked.

  ‘Aye,’ he said. ‘Jacket pocket.’

  ‘Which pub was it?’

  ‘Baxter Bothy. Up from the park.’

  Clare glanced at Matt. ‘I know it. Quite a big pub. Should have CCTV.’

  ‘When was this?’ asked Matt.

  ‘Wednesday.’

  ‘Time?’

  ‘’Bout twelve.’

  ‘Midday?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘You both there?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  Clare sat forward. ‘So, Danny, you went to the Baxter Bothy with Liam about twelve o’clock on Wednesday. Did you buy a drink?’

  He shook his head. ‘Nah. No money.’

  ‘So were you just looking for something to nick?’

  Danny shrugged.

  ‘Okay. Whether you were or you weren’t, let’s say you were in the pub and you saw the car keys. Where were they?’

  ‘I don’t know about this.’ Danny shifted on his seat. ‘I’m gonnae get my head kicked in.’

  ‘Look, Danny,’ Clare said, ‘if we can find other evidence that ties these keys to whoever had them, we won’t use your testimony. We’ll only use your statement if we need it.’
r />   ‘All right.’ Danny cleared his throat. ‘He was a big lad. Had a jacket. Nice leather one. You could smell it. Knew he had money.’

  ‘Did you know him?’

  ‘No, but you could tell he was a big player. Everyone got out of his way.’

  ‘Would you know him again?’ Matt asked.

  Danny considered this. ‘Maybe. Anyway, he takes off his jacket and hangs it on a hook. And he goes to the gents so I get talking to the barman while Liam checks his pockets. Then Liam heads for the door and I know he’s got something. We get outside and he shows me the keys.’

  ‘How did you know where the car was?’

  ‘We didn’t. We just wandered about, checking any Audis we passed. There were none in the streets near the pub so we crossed the park and there it was. Just outside the park gates on Bingham Terrace. Clicked the remote and we were in. It was only then we saw one of your lot get out of another car – he wasn’t in uniform, like, but you can always tell. So Liam throws it into reverse and we’re away.’ He laughed. ‘It was fuckin’ ace. Cannae beat a car chase.’

  ‘Danny,’ Clare said, ‘we’ll get the CCTV from the pub. I’d like you to stay here while we fetch it. We need you to point out the man you stole the keys from. Okay?’

  Danny settled himself back in his seat. ‘Yeah, whatever. Not like I’ve anywhere to go. Can I have a coffee?’

  Clare suspended the interview and the two DIs left Danny under Jim’s supervision.

  ‘I’ll send my DS to download the CCTV footage,’ she said to Matt.

  ‘Quicker to take the lad and view it in situ,’ he said.

  Clare shook her head. ‘No way. I’m not putting Danny in danger. If that bloke’s there, he could remember Danny and Liam.’

  ‘He’s a thieving scrote. You’re seriously bothered about him?’

  ‘Like I say, I won’t put him in danger. Thieving scrote he may be, but he’s a material witness and I don’t want him scared off. Or worse.’ Clare signalled to Chris, who approached, one eye on Matt. ‘Chris, can you get over to the Baxter Bothy and download their CCTV from between eleven and two on Wednesday morning, please? We need it back here as soon as, so our witness can identify the bloke he stole the Audi keys from.’