Lies to Tell

by Marion Todd

  ‘And this was such a case?’

  ‘Aye. Paddy told Phil a couple of lads had asked him for guns. Just for a warning. Somebody owed them and they wanted paid. Said the guns would put the frighteners on them.’

  ‘And did the defendant oblige?’

  ‘Aye. Phil gave Paddy the guns and told him to sort it out. He said Paddy was to make sure he was paid up front and take a cut before giving Phil the rest.’

  The jury were paying close attention now, and no wonder, Clare thought. It was compelling evidence and she found it hard to believe they wouldn’t convict Phil Quinn – if they believed Tamsin, of course.

  ‘And these guns – can you tell the court what they were used for?’

  ‘The Cleary family.’

  The advocate paused to let this sink in. Then he went on. ‘You are saying the guns supplied by the defendant to his employee, Mr Patrick Grant, were then passed on to the men who gunned down and killed the Cleary family? Mr Brian Cleary, Mrs Elaine Cleary and their three children?’

  ‘That’s exactly what I’m saying.’

  ‘But of course,’ the advocate went on, ‘it was a case of mistaken identity, was it not? The Clearys did not owe these men any money.’

  ‘Aye.’

  ‘And what was the defendant’s reaction on hearing this?’

  ‘He asked Paddy if the guns had been wiped clean before he gave them to the killers.’

  Clare saw one of the jurors put her hand to her mouth. Another was looking down at the floor.

  ‘And why do you think he asked that?’

  ‘So they couldn’t be traced back to us. Paddy said they were clean and not to worry. So Phil told Paddy to keep his head down for a bit and to make sure it never happened again.’

  ‘The defendant didn’t show any remorse? Or talk about giving the killers up to the police?’

  Tamsin shook her head. ‘No way. Phil would never do that.’

  ‘And what did you think, Tamsin?’

  There was a pause then Tamsin began to speak, slowly at first. ‘I – that family – those wee ones. I suddenly made the connection – between the money we had and them lying dead, gunned down in their own house.’ She turned to look at the partition that separated her from her husband. ‘They didn’t deserve it. None of them.’

  Chapter 22

  The court broke for lunch and Clare sought Tamsin out. She was safely ensconced in a room to the rear of the court building with two officers in attendance. She was regarding a packet of tuna sandwiches without enthusiasm when Clare entered.

  ‘You did so well, Tamsin,’ Clare said, sitting down beside her. ‘Really well.’

  ‘You think?’ She seemed deflated and Clare hastened to reassure her.

  ‘Definitely. You could have heard a pin drop in that court room. And I can tell you it’s rarely like that. You made a real impression.’

  She shrugged. ‘Well, either way, it’s done now. God knows what Phil will do if he gets off. I’ll probably be dead in a ditch by the end of the week.’

  Clare took Tamsin’s hand in hers. ‘That’s not going to happen, Tamsin. After your testimony, I’ll be amazed if he gets off. But, if he does, we’ll look after you. New identity, new location and, wherever you go, the cops will only be a phone call away.’

  ‘Aye, maybe.’ She picked up the pack of sandwiches and began to peel off the plastic seal.

  ‘About this morning…’

  Tamsin looked up. ‘What about it?’

  ‘That woman who came into court just as you were about to start giving evidence. A blonde, in a red leather jacket.’

  ‘Aye.’

  ‘It was Rose, wasn’t it?’

  Tamsin sighed and put the sandwich box down again. ‘Yeah. That’s her.’

  ‘She was trying to warn you off giving evidence, wasn’t she?’

  ‘She was. But, by that time – well, I was there, wasn’t I? I mean I’ve burned my bridges with Phil now anyway. So I thought I might as well get on with it. Tell them what I knew.’

  ‘That was very brave, Tamsin. Very brave indeed.’

  Tamsin shrugged again. ‘I just hope it’s enough.’

  * * *

  Clare left Tamsin to her unappetising sandwiches and took the chance to wander down the Royal Mile. Her eyes were everywhere, looking for the blue van and its occupants, but they were nowhere to be seen. Tamsin’s evidence for the Crown had been completed by lunchtime and she would face Phil Quinn’s defence advocate in the afternoon. And then, with luck, it would be over. Clare fervently hoped the questioning would be completed today. She didn’t fancy having to bring Tamsin back to the High Court again tomorrow with a repeat of the security arrangements today’s journey had entailed. The sun was high in the sky and she elected to sit at a table outside a small cafe. She ordered a sandwich and a coffee which the smiling waiter said he would bring out. While she waited she tapped a message to the DCI.

  Tamsin’s evidence good so far.

  Looks like Paddy Grant’s sister turned up in court trying to scare her but she went through with it.

  Defence this afternoon.

  Should have her back in St A’s this evening.

  I’ve sent Chris and a couple of cops to check the flat is ok.

  She hesitated before pressing Send, wondering if she should add a personal message, then decided against it. This was work, after all. She sent the message then, a few minutes later, received a Thanks in reply. Thanks? Was that it? Maybe he was in the middle of something…

  The sandwich and coffee arrived and she bit into it, realising how long it had been since that breakfast in St Andrews. As she chewed, she clicked to call Chris. It went to voicemail and, as she was preparing to leave a message, he cut in to answer the call.

  ‘Hi Chris,’ she said, her mouth still full of sandwich. ‘What’s new?’

  ‘Your Transit van,’ he said. ‘Pinged a camera on the M90 but it left at the St Andrews junction and it’s not been seen since. Probably keeping to the back roads.’

  ‘Okay, thanks Chris. Just make sure that flat is still safe.’

  ‘Yeah, on it. I still can’t believe she’s been there since Friday and you only told me last night.’

  Clare hesitated. She had taken a risk telling Chris about Tamsin but she knew she still couldn’t tell him there was a possible leak. ‘Wasn’t my decision,’ she fibbed. ‘Anyway, never mind about that just now. Any luck with those bank statements?’

  ‘No warrant yet for Marek but we have the statements for Johannes’s other accounts – the cards Gary and Nita found beneath the carpet and it’s more of the same.’

  ‘Right. I’ll be back by teatime and we’ll chat then. No sign of Marek yet?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘Okay – get back on to the press officer and get another statement out. Let’s say we’re concerned for his safety. If he is out there and watching the news, that might make him more likely to come in.’

  ‘Unless he is the killer.’

  ‘There is that.’

  * * *

  The defence advocate’s strategy was little more than an attempt to question Tamsin’s integrity and the state of her marriage. She fielded the questions well, Clare thought, insisting that her marriage had been sound until the Cleary murders.

  ‘Like I said, that was out of order. Decent family like that. But Phil – well, he said he’d sell guns to anyone. That he’d told Paddy not to be so fucking stupid in the future and it was all sorted now. Only, it didn’t feel sorted to me and I knew I had to do something.’ She straightened her back and glanced at the partition again. ‘Some things are more important than a marriage.’

  * * *

  By half past three it was all done. Clare breathed a sigh of relief as she handed Tamsin over to the armed officers for the journey back to St Andrews. Chris had confirmed there was no sign of suspicious activity at the flat and that Wendy would be waiting to see Tamsin in safely.

  ‘The Serious Crime guys are outside ag
ain. Different vehicle this time – a dark red Range Rover.’

  Clare ended the call and made her way back to the car park. She was soon on her way out of the city and heading for the bridge. She was early enough to miss the worst of the teatime traffic and, before long, she saw the three towers of the Queensferry Crossing once more. As she drove onto the bridge she flicked the radio on and found herself singing along to Lady Gaga. She felt lighter now, with Tamsin’s court appearance out of the way. All they had to do was to keep her safe for the next couple of days, until the verdict was returned. After that it would be over to the Serious Organised Crime lot to arrange her new identity and new life. She began to appreciate just how much of her waking hours Tamsin had consumed. She really should have been concentrating on Johannes’s murder and she definitely hadn’t given it the attention it deserved. That he deserved.

  She looked at the car clock. Just after four. There would be time to go through Marek’s bank statements with Chris. She set the cruise control to sixty and took her foot off the accelerator, allowing the Merc to coast back towards St Andrews.

  Chapter 23

  ‘Look at last month, for a start,’ Chris said, moving the bank printouts across the desk for Clare to see. He pointed to the first statement. ‘On the fourth of April he pays in £350 and…’ he moved the next statement into view, ‘…on the same day he pays £250 into a different account.’ He fished out another statement and indicated a transaction. ‘See?’

  ‘Let me guess,’ Clare said. ‘He pays money into all five accounts on the same day?’

  ‘Nearly.’ Chris pulled the other three account statements across the desk. ‘See, in this one he does it on the third and the other two are on the fifth.’

  ‘How much in total?’

  ‘A thousand pounds.’

  Clare scanned the statements. ‘And then? Save me working it out, Chris. It’s been a long day.’

  ‘Take your pick. Some of it he transfers to other people—’

  ‘Have you tracked down the recipients?’

  He shook his head. ‘No such luck. Abroad, mainly. Then there’s one payment to a business in Delaware. Another to the Netherlands. Some of it he uses to buy stuff.’

  ‘From?’

  ‘Some from eBay, others I don’t recognise.’

  ‘Think it’s legit?’

  ‘I’m not sure. Judging by the number of transactions, I’d say no. But I can’t see what he’s bought – only the amounts – so I can’t be certain.’

  Clare yawned. After her sleepless night and early start she was fast running out of energy. ‘So, of that thousand pounds paid in around the fourth of April, how much does he pay out?’

  ‘Across all five accounts, nine-hundred-and-fifty altogether.’

  ‘So he keeps fifty?’

  ‘Yep.’

  Clare leafed through the statements, scanning them. ‘And he repeats this?’

  ‘He does. Pretty much every ten days or so, although it varies from seven days to as many as eighteen. At least as far back as I’ve gone.’

  ‘Which is?’

  ‘January. It’s enough to be sure there’s a pattern.’

  ‘Is it always a thousand pounds?’

  ‘No. Sometimes a bit less, other times more. But always spreading it around the five accounts, I’m guessing to avoid raising suspicion with the banks.’

  Clare sat back. ‘And he always keeps back the same amount?’

  ‘Five per cent, give or take.’

  ‘So Johannes was a money mule.’

  ‘Looks like it.’

  Clare pondered this. ‘Would the banks not have picked it up?’

  ‘Maybe. But, from what I can see, he’s been quite smart about it – no regular pattern – sometimes the money sits in his account for a week or two. One month he was withdrawing it fifty or a hundred at a time.’ Chris leafed through the statements as he spoke. ‘He’s been pretty smart about it, Clare. It’s well planned. There is a pattern but you have to look hard to find it.’

  ‘Hmm. I wonder if we should call someone in. Someone with a bit of experience of this kind of thing.’

  Chris nodded. ‘Yeah, I think so. I’ve a mate over in Dundee – at Bell Street station. Specialises in fraud cases. I spoke to her earlier and she said more and more students are being tricked or persuaded into money laundering. I can ask her to come across, if you like?’

  Clare rose, scraping her chair back. ‘If you would, Chris.’ She yawned again. ‘I have to go home. I’m absolutely bushed.’

  ‘Late night was it?’

  She felt her cheeks redden. ‘What makes you say that?’

  ‘Calm down. I’m only asking. You’ve been yawning your head off, that’s all.’

  Clare avoided his eye. ‘If you could call your friend in Dundee – it’d be good to talk to her tomorrow.’

  As she went to get her coat from her office, Chris called, ‘Oh, I forgot to say – I gave Johannes’s laptop to Diane today. Thought she might be able to download the data for us.’

  Clare stopped in her tracks. ‘You were down at Glenrothes? At Tech Support?’

  ‘No, actually. Diane was here when I got back from the decoy run.’

  Clare made an effort to keep her voice level. ‘Did she say what she wanted?’

  ‘She had some new guy with her – Craig. Didn’t catch his last name. I think she wanted to introduce him. Show him round – that sort of thing.’

  Craig Thomson. Diane’s new colleague. The one from Gartcosh who was shit hot at anything that came his way.

  ‘What’s he like?’

  ‘Oh, usual techy guy, I suppose. Jeans, trainers, some band T-shirt. Nice enough. Seemed pretty interested in the set-up here.’

  Clare wondered about that. ‘Were they looking at anything in particular?’

  Chris shrugged. ‘Don’t think so. I asked if he was something to do with this new communications system – the one Gayle whatshername’s working on.’

  Clare tried to keep her tone light. ‘And is he?’

  ‘Nope. Neither of them seemed to know much about it. They were both pretty interested, though.’ His forehead creased. ‘Call me paranoid, Clare, but does that not strike you as a bit odd? A new comms system and IT Services know nothing about it?’

  Clare hesitated. She knew Chris wasn’t the source of the leak. She didn’t need Gayle Crichton to tell her that. She knew she could trust him. But could she rely on him not to give the game away if she did take him into her confidence?

  He saw her hesitate. ‘You know something, Clare. Don’t you? Fucksake – don’t you trust me?’

  ‘Chris, I—’ She broke off when the station door opened and Sara came in with a drunk in tow. She smiled. ‘It’ll keep.’ And, leaving Chris to his suspicions, she walked briskly out of the station into the cool May evening.

  * * *

  As Clare drove home she mulled over Diane and Craig’s visit. Could it be Diane suspected something? Or was it Craig who had engineered the visit? Was there more to him than met the eye? Why would a young guy as skilled as Craig want to move from the very heart of things at Gartcosh to a small Tech Support office in Glenrothes? Could it actually be true that he wanted more time to spend developing computer games? Or resurrecting a relationship with some girl? Clare thought she would very much like to meet Craig to form her own opinion.

  Or was she being too suspicious? Was Diane really hoping to catch Clare for a chat? She had seemed so down at the parkrun, talking about her mum. Maybe she just needed to talk. See a friendly face. Since her mother’s dementia had worsened, Diane had aged ten years before Clare’s eyes. ‘Maybe I’ll go down to her parkrun this weekend,’ she said, out loud, as she turned the car onto the Craigtoun Road. And then she remembered she couldn’t. She would be babysitting her nephew. It would have to be the weekend after. She decided to give Diane a call anyway, just for a chat. Surely Gayle couldn’t object to that. ‘And to hell with her if she does,’ she said, slowing down as she appro
ached Daisy Cottage.

  She pulled into the drive and jumped out of the Merc. Benjy was barking behind the door and she opened it to let him out. In the kitchen, she went to the fridge to see what she could heat up quickly and saw the remains of the curry. That made her think of last night and of Al Gibson. What on earth had they done? She would hate things to be awkward between them, particularly as they had seemed to be getting on better, of late. She picked up her phone to send him a text. But what to say? Did she want to see him again – out of work? Admittedly she’d enjoyed his company last night and the sex had been surprisingly good too. Alcohol-fuelled no doubt but it had been exactly what they had both needed. Was it something she wanted to do again? Maybe. She was mentally composing a noncommittal message when her phone buzzed. She half expected to see it was him. Having the same thoughts as she was. Maybe suggesting dinner – at that steak barn they had passed on Friday, perhaps. She flipped open the cover and saw an unrecognised number. Then her heart sank as she read the message.

  On my way

  See you soon,

  Gayle x

  PS bringing a bottle!

  Clare groaned. Between her fling with the DCI and trying to keep Tamsin safe to give evidence, then going over those bank statements with Chris, all on barely a few hours’ sleep, she had completely forgotten about inviting Gayle over. What the hell was she going to feed her? She sent back a quick See You Soon and returned to the fridge. There was quite a lot of curry. Not enough for a meal on its own but if she baked some potatoes and opened a bag of salad…

  She began stabbing potatoes with a fork then she coated them with olive oil and sprinkled the skins with chilli flakes. She shoved these into the oven, turning the dial up to the max and began spooning the curry into microwaveable dishes. Then she ran upstairs and stepped out of her work trousers, pulling on jeans and a jumper. Benjy began to bark, signalling Gayle’s arrival, and she ran back downstairs to let her in.