In Plain Sight

by In Plain Sight (retail) (epub)

  Dermot leaned across the table. ‘I fail to see the relevance.’

  ‘Mind if I ask how you manage to afford a house like that, Val?’

  Val smirked. ‘You got a husband, love?’

  Clare didn’t respond.

  ‘Choose well,’ Val advised her. ‘I did.’

  ‘Where’s your husband now, Val?’

  Val suppressed a smile. ‘As I’m sure you know, Detective Inspector, he met with an accident. Tragic. But the insurance paid out.’

  ‘So you’re not funding your lifestyle with illegal activities?’

  Val laughed. ‘My lifestyle? I’m eating bacon rolls, love.’

  Dermot began tapping his pen on the table. ‘May I ask, Inspector, what my client’s financial situation has to do with a missing baby?’

  Clare looked at the solicitor. ‘Lisa Mitchell, the baby’s mother, is the sister of one of your client’s associates. We think it’s possible Lisa may have been involved in some illegal activities. We were hoping your client could help us with that.’

  ‘As you are doubtless aware,’ Dermot said, ‘my client has had an unblemished record for many years now and, frankly, she is offended at the implication of criminal activity.’

  ‘Oh, was I being too subtle?’ Clare said, before Matt could stop her. ‘I rather meant to accuse your client.’

  Matt Fuller rose. ‘Excuse us a moment, please.’

  He jerked his head towards the door and Clare followed him.

  Once they were out of the room, Matt turned on her. ‘And just what do you expect to gain by flinging accusations about? We’ve got nothing here and they know it.’

  Clare was prevented from replying by Sara. ‘Boss, phone…’

  ‘Excuse me, Matt. I have to take this.’

  Clare grabbed the phone. ‘DI Mackay.’

  ‘Inspector, it’s Robbie here. I picked up the key from Wendy and we’ve got the garage.’

  ‘Brilliant. You’re sure it’s the one? There should be a couple of sunbeds.’

  ‘Oh, they’re here all right. And that’s not all.’

  * * *

  When Clare and Matt returned to the room, Dermot Callaghan had put away his fountain pen and Val was sitting forward in her seat.

  ‘I believe my client has answered your questions and that she cannot be of further assistance,’ Dermot said. ‘I therefore suggest you arrange for someone to return Mrs Docherty to her home without delay.’

  ‘With the bacon,’ Val added.

  Clare and Matt sat down and Clare restarted the tape.

  ‘Did you hear me, Inspector?’

  Clare said, ‘Yes, Mr Callaghan,’ her voice smooth. ‘There’s just one more thing. About half an hour ago, two of my officers opened a lock-up garage about a mile from here with a key taken from the house of Lisa and Kevin Mitchell, the parents of the missing baby.’

  Val folded her arms. ‘So?’

  ‘Inside the garage they found a large number of packages which they believe may contain illegal substances, contrary to Section 5 of the Misuse of Drugs Act. The contents of the packages will be tested but I have also instructed a forensic team to go over them to obtain DNA samples.’ She looked at Dermot, her eyes narrow. ‘The prior connection between your client and the garage owner’s sister gives me grounds to suspect your client may be involved. I would therefore like to invite your client to give us a sample of her DNA.’ She smiled at Val. ‘So we can rule you out of our enquiries.’

  ‘Fuck off,’ Val said. ‘I’ll do no such thing.’

  Dermot turned to Clare and Matt. ‘You heard my client, officers. She does not consent.’

  ‘Then we’ll arrest your client,’ Matt said. ‘Simple as that.’

  Dermot glanced at Val. ‘If we might have a few moments…’

  * * *

  Chris was waiting for them in the front office. ‘The CCTV footage from the pub…’

  ‘What about it?’ Clare asked.

  ‘Some pretty good images of the jacket owner. The guy the lads stole the Audi keys from.’

  ‘Good work, Chris. Make sure Danny points him out from the footage first. Check we’re talking about the same bloke. Then get a couple of the Dundee lads to see if they recognise him. If not, take some stills over to the pub and get the bar staff to give us a name.’

  ‘Will do.’

  ‘Oh, and Chris…’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Not a word to Danny about the phone being in the car. Keep him in the interview room until we have something from SOCO. If he gets arsey, arrest him for taking and driving away – it’ll buy us some time.’

  * * *

  If Val’s demeanour was unchanged, Clare found Dermot’s body language more conciliatory when she and Matt re-entered the room.

  ‘My client struggles with her memory at times,’ he began, wringing his hands. ‘She thinks it’s possible she met Ashley’s sister on occasion and, well, I don’t have to tell you officers how easy it is for DNA to pass from one person’s clothing to another.’

  Clare looked at him, unsmiling. What a weasel he was. ‘Are you saying, Mr Callaghan, that your client has been in contact with the packages found in Lisa Mitchell’s lock-up garage?’

  ‘Oh no, Inspector. Nothing like that. Rather, if she was in Mrs Mitchell’s company, it’s possible some clothing fibres or even DNA could have been passed between them. I’m sure you understand what I mean.’ He glanced at Val then smiled back at the two DIs, his lips thin.

  Clare understood him all right. It was quite clear Val had something to hide. The question was would she trade it for information on Lisa and Abi’s whereabouts? She turned from Dermot to Val. ‘Val, do you know where Lisa Mitchell is?’

  Val shook her head.

  ‘And Abigail Mitchell? Do you know anything about her disappearance?’

  Val’s eyes narrowed. ‘I wouldn’t harm a wee baby. That’s not my style. If I’d had a problem with Lisa, I’d have smacked her. Simple as.’

  Looking at Val, Clare could believe it. She felt Val was unbending a little. If only she could decide how to play it.

  ‘Val,’ she began, her tone softer, ‘has Lisa ever worked for you?’

  Val began smoothing an imaginary crease from her skirt. Clare waited.

  ‘She might have done bits and pieces. Not for a while, mind. And I’m not saying it was anything illegal.’

  ‘Of course not. But you might have met her a few times?’

  Val shrugged. ‘Maybe.’

  Matt shifted in his seat. Clare hoped he wasn’t about to blow it. She went on before he could interrupt.

  ‘So, if Lisa was doing one or two jobs for you,’ she said, ‘could that have upset other folk?’

  Val looked Clare in the eye. ‘I could see that might happen.’

  ‘A name, Val.’

  Val shook her head.

  Clare could feel the frustration rising but she bit it back. She was so close now. ‘Val, there’s a wee baby out there somewhere, a baby that needs heart medication twice a day. And now her mum’s missing too. Kevin Mitchell is frantic with worry. Please try and find it in your heart to help us. We’re running out of time. If Abigail Mitchell dies…’

  Even through the heavy make-up, Clare could see Val’s face becoming pink.

  ‘You don’t understand,’ she said. ‘There’s rules about these things.’

  ‘Try explaining that to a tiny baby,’ Clare said, her tone harsh. ‘To hell with your rules.’

  ‘I think, Inspector,’ Dermot began, but Val waved this away. She moved closer to Clare. So close that Clare could see the open pores and broken capillaries around her nose, where her panstick make-up had worn off. She could see Val’s eyes, the whites yellowed by years of drinking, and she could smell her breath, sour from the stale odour of cigarettes. She didn’t flinch but held Val’s gaze.

  ‘You get your name,’ Val said, ‘I get a clean bill of health.’

  Clare looked at Matt.

  ‘We can’t do t
hat,’ Matt said. ‘It’s way above our pay grade.’

  Val sat back in her seat. ‘Take it or leave it.’

  * * *

  Tony wasn’t keen. ‘It’s bending the rules, Clare. You’re asking me to ignore the fact that those drugs packages might have Val’s DNA. They could be Class A, for all we know. And there’s no guarantee the name she drops will lead us to Abi.’

  ‘For the love of Christ, Tony, is it not a chance worth taking? Four days, that baby’s been gone. Four days!’

  ‘It’s just, I can’t be seen—’

  ‘Your promotion. Right. We can’t do anything that’ll stand in the way of you getting the Super’s post, can we?’

  ‘I’ll take the risk,’ Matt said.

  Clare looked at him. Was this the same Matt who Tony had brought in over her head? The Matt she had assumed was firmly in Tony’s pocket? She might have to revise her opinion of him.

  ‘I won’t put a baby’s life at risk,’ Matt said. He looked at Tony, his expression stony. ‘Go out on enquiries. Get something in your diary, anything that shows you weren’t here to ask. Clare and I will take the decision in your absence.’

  Tony gave Matt a wink. ‘I knew I was right to bring you in, Matthew.’

  They left Tony. Clare couldn’t resist slamming the office door. ‘He’s such an arse. A complete waste of space.’

  ‘Never mind him,’ Matt said. ‘Let’s get Val talking.’

  * * *

  ‘Ashley gave Lisa a phone,’ Val began. ‘Poor lassie needed someone she could talk to. Someone who knew she was involved in stuff, ye know. Stuff she couldn’t talk to you lads about.’

  ‘So the number she was calling,’ Clare said. ‘That was you?’

  Val avoided their eyes. ‘Yeah, that was me. She called a few times a day. At first, I told her to keep calm. I’d put some feelers out, see what folk were saying.’

  ‘And then?’

  ‘Then she got desperate. Can’t blame her, really. Wanted to know who’d done it. Who was warning her off.’

  ‘Had there been other warnings?’

  ‘Aye. A couple of notes shoved through the door the week before the wee lass was taken. A car driven at her one day. But I never thought they’d go this far.’

  Clare waited.

  ‘So Tuesday night, she calls again.’ Val frowned at the memory. ‘She sounded different. Harder, like. Said if I didn’t tell her who was behind Abi’s abduction she’d drop me in it.’

  ‘What time did she call?’

  ‘’Bout half-seven. EastEnders was just coming on.’

  ‘Okay. Go on.’

  ‘Like I say, she was in a state. Said if I didn’t tell her who it was, she’d go to you lads. Tell you things about our arrangement.’

  Matt leaned forward. ‘And did you tell her? Did you know who’d taken Abi?’

  ‘I’d a pretty good idea. But listen, if it ever gets out it was me—’

  ‘It won’t,’ Clare said. ‘We just need the name.’

  Val ran her tongue round her lips, moistening them. She swallowed. ‘Tennant. Dundee fella called Ronnie Tennant.’

  Chapter 27

  Chris caught Clare as she left the interview room. ‘We have a name for our man in the pub.’

  ‘Let me guess: Ronnie Tennant?’

  Chris gaped. ‘How the hell did you know that?’

  ‘Because between you, me and Matt, who is incidentally not a prat after all, Val Docherty’s come up trumps.’

  Out of the corner of Clare’s eye she saw Val and Dermot emerge from the interview room. ‘Now for God’s sake go and get her shopping and get rid of her.’

  * * *

  Clare decided to have Sacha arrested, based on the haul found in the lock-up she had been seeking access to. ‘I want Bronzalite tanning salon searched for traces of drugs. Pound to a penny that’s where Lisa was selling it.’

  ‘Should we wait for a warrant?’ Chris said. ‘Don’t want the search to be deemed illegal.’

  ‘Ideally, yes, I’d wait. But I think it’s reasonable to assume they’ll get rid of any drugs kept there if they get wind of our investigations.’

  ‘Fair enough. Want SOCO in?’

  Definitely. ‘I want that place turned upside down. See what they can find.’

  ‘Maybe better send a couple of uniforms with the SOCO team,’ Chris said. ‘In case there’s any trouble.’

  ‘Good idea, Chris. Ask SOCO to call in here on their way to Bronzalite. I’ll have two officers waiting.’

  Matt had already sent cars to Ronnie Tennant’s house in Bingham Terrace, so Clare and Chris headed to the Baxter Bothy with photos of Ronnie, Danny and Liam. ‘It’s not that I don’t believe Danny’s story,’ she said to Chris. ‘But I want to be absolutely sure about them lifting the keys from Ronnie’s pocket.’

  * * *

  Jackie had the look of someone who’d been a barman all his life. His manner was charmless and his forearms brawny, doubtless from years of hefting beer barrels. He moved around the mahogany-lined bar wiping tables with a cloth that looked as if he might have used it to wipe the floor. In response to their questions he said he had been working on Wednesday and confirmed that Ronnie Tennant was a regular.

  ‘Was he in on Wednesday?’ Clare asked. ‘About lunchtime?’

  ‘Aye. Usually is.’

  ‘Can you remember how he was dressed?’

  ‘The usual. Jeans, white T-shirt – wife beater kind of thing.’

  Chris asked, ‘Anything else, Jackie? A coat maybe?’

  Jackie stopped wiping tables and thought for a moment. ‘Think it was a leather jacket. Aye, it was. I remember cos he hung it on a hook at the end of the bar. Normally he keeps it on him, or at least on a chair beside him. But that day he hung it up. Like he was saying to the rest of the pub, “Look at me. Look what I can afford”.’

  Clare produced the photos of Danny and Liam. ‘Seen these lads before?’

  Jackie glanced at the photos. ‘Aye, I remember those two. Hanging about like a bad smell.’

  ‘Did they buy drinks?’

  Jackie shook his head. ‘I said to the boss they were likely sizing the place up. Wouldn’t surprise me if we were broken into that night. But it didn’t happen. Pair o’ wee chancers, though.’

  Jackie started walking between the tables, slapping down beer mats. ‘If there’s nothing else, then…’

  ‘Just one more thing,’ Clare said. ‘When did you last see Ronnie Tennant?’

  Jackie stopped to think. ‘Oddly enough, I don’t think I’ve seen him since yesterday. He’s not been in today.’

  Clare handed him a card. ‘If he does come in, would you phone me please?’

  Jackie made no reply and they left him to his beer mats.

  As soon as they got outside, Chris said, ‘Reckon he’ll call us?’

  ‘Not a hope.’

  Back in the car, Clare was about to start the engine then she stopped. ‘What he said – about Ronnie hanging up his jacket…’

  ‘What about it?’

  ‘Strike you as odd?’

  ‘Not really.’

  ‘Is it the kind of pub where you’d leave an expensive leather jacket on a hook?’

  ‘Good point. And remember what Jackie said,’ Chris went on. ‘Normally, Ronnie looks after his jacket, but on Wednesday he left it on a hook. Now if you had the keys to Lisa Mitchell’s car – the mother of a missing baby – would you leave them in a jacket pocket for anyone to nick?’

  ‘You’re thinking he set those two lads up?’

  ‘Them, or any other chancers hanging around. It just so happened these lads were in the pub. A guy like Ronnie Tennant – he probably has a nose for thieving wee scumbags. What better way to get rid of a car?’

  Chris exhaled. ‘Clever. He leaves the keys dangling and the lads do the job for him.’

  ‘Exactly. And their DNA is all over the Audi. So what I’d like to know is why was Lisa’s car found parked near the Tennants’ house in the fir
st place, and how did Ronnie Tennant get his hands on the keys? And,’ she said, turning the key in the ignition, ‘where the hell is Lisa?’

  Clare and Chris drove the short distance from the Baxter Bothy to Bingham Terrace where they found the officers Matt had stationed outside.

  ‘No one at home,’ one of them said. ‘At least, they’re not answering the door.’

  ‘Neighbours?’ Clare asked.

  ‘One lot on holiday. The other lot said Mrs T’s away at her sister’s. They saw Ronnie earlier in the week but not since.’

  ‘Any idea where the sister stays?’

  ‘No, she didn’t know.’

  ‘Okay,’ Clare said. ‘I want two of you here at all times. Check if there’s a back way out.’

  ‘Already done. Houses behind, so he’d have to go over a pretty high wall.’

  ‘All right. We may need to set up surveillance, but just try to keep a low profile for now.’

  Chris drove back down towards the Tay Road Bridge while Clare phoned ahead. ‘Get me everything you can on Ronald and Margo Tennant,’ she told Sara. ‘Address Bingham Terrace in Dundee.’

  ‘Sure, boss,’ Sara said. ‘Oh, by the way, boss?’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Call for you. A Susan Clancy. Said she needed to speak to you. She said it was urgent.’

  ‘Got a number?’

  Sara reeled the number off and Clare jotted it down on her hand.

  ‘Pull over, Chris,’ she said. ‘I’ve a call to make.’

  Chris drew the car into the side, bumping it up onto the pavement, and Clare dialled.

  Susan was brief and to the point. ‘I need to talk to you. But not at the flat.’

  ‘Okay, Susan. We’re in Dundee just now. Do you want to come to the station in Bell Street?’

  ‘No way. You know the Technology Park? Just off the Kingsway – near Invergowrie?’

  Clare squinted at the map on the satnav, moving the joystick around until she found the Technology Park. It was to the north-west of the city, close to the A90 dual carriageway. ‘Yeah, got it.’