by Marion Todd
‘Okay,’ Chris said. ‘Look, the Cupar lads should be with you in three or four minutes now. St Andrews cops maybe five minutes behind them. Just keep an eye on the car till they get there. I’m on my way too.’
Clare put down her phone, her eyes trained on the Honda, and reversed her car further into the side, keeping the engine running. She was taking a chance, sitting there. Had Tamsin seen her driving the Merc? Parking it outside the Market Street flat? And, if she came out of the shop now, would she recognise it and take off in the other direction before the Cupar cops arrived to bar her way?
But what if she wasn’t in the shop? Where else might she be? Maybe she had friends in Balmullo and was visiting them before going off to her new life. There were houses here and there, along the main road. If Tamsin was in one of those and she heard the sirens, she could be out the back door and over the fields before they could possibly check all the houses. Clare doubted she’d have the manpower to search them anyway, let alone get a warrant in time.
A boy of about ten wobbled past on his bike, a shaky hand stuck out as he signalled to pass Clare’s car. On the pavement a couple of girls whizzed along on micro-scooters followed at a more leisurely pace by two young women, carrying schoolbags. Mothers? Or childminders? Clare thought it was hard to tell. It was a distraction she didn’t need. In fact, she hoped they would all be along the road and safely out of the way before the police cars arrived. And then the shop door opened and Clare saw a woman emerge, a green carrier bag swinging from her wrist. The clothes were different, the hair tied back. But she had spent enough time with Tamsin over the past week to know it was her. ‘Gotcha,’ she said softly. And then she swore under her breath. Tamsin was not alone. And, unless Clare was much mistaken, the man who had come out of the shop behind her was Paddy Grant.
For a brief moment, Clare assumed Tamsin was under duress. That Paddy had found her and coerced her into taking him with her. Automatically, her hand went to the gear level as she prepared to tail the Honda. And then she saw that she was wrong. That she’d been wrong all along. There was no coercion there. No intimidation. The sight of Tamsin’s hand briefly touching Paddy’s arm before he went round to the passenger door of the car told her all she needed to know. ‘Cunning bastards,’ Clare said under her breath. Tamsin had held out on the lot of them. Paddy Grant hadn’t been driving past that Market Street flat to frighten Tamsin. It had all been for show. And all the time Tamsin had pretended to be afraid of Paddy, she was secretly planning a future with him.
‘I’m going to have you, lady,’ Clare said to herself. ‘You and your bullnecked boyfriend.’
She dialled Chris’s number, putting it on speakerphone, and started the car.
‘I’m on my way, Clare,’ he said. ‘Five minutes, tops.’
‘Chris, just listen. Tamsin is in the car now and she has Paddy Grant with her.’
‘Paddy? What the fuck?’
‘It’s all been a put-up job. They’re in it together. He’s not been scaring her. They’ve been playing us.’ As she spoke, she saw the brake lights come to life on the red Honda and then they went off again. The indicator light started to flash.
‘They’re pulling away,’ Clare said, flicking the indicator on the Merc. And then she heard the siren. It was distant, but coming closer. She sent up a silent prayer of thanks. There were no other roads out of the village. They had them covered. And then she realised Tamsin and Paddy must have heard the siren too. Tamsin was executing a swift three-point turn in the road. And from the screech of tyres, she wasn’t hanging about. Clare glanced in her mirror and saw to her horror that a group of children on bikes had just come out of Hayston Park and were cycling along the road towards her. She couldn’t risk the Honda hitting them. It was speeding up now, as the sirens behind it came closer.
It was a split-second decision – one she would have to account for several times in the days to come – but it was never in doubt. Clare turned her car – her beloved Merc – broadside across the road to stop the Honda going any further. The road was narrow enough, with hedges either side, leaving the Honda nowhere to go. Then she jumped out of the car and ran down the road, yelling at the children and their parents to get back. They froze for a second but when she carried on yelling they turned and began running back towards Hayston Park. A girl in a pink anorak began to cry and seemed rooted to the spot. Clare ran towards her, scooping her up and popping her quickly over a low garden wall. A woman pushing a double buggy, hung with schoolbags, did a swift about-turn and joined Clare in yelling at the children. Bikes and scooters were abandoned and in seconds the road was clear of children. The sirens were coming closer as the Honda screamed towards them.
Clare stepped into the road, her hand held up to bring the Honda to a halt. She could see the police car approaching from Cupar now and she knew she had them. And then she realised the Honda wasn’t going to stop. With seconds to spare, she leapt for the same garden wall she had dropped the child over, clearing it just in time. The child, seeing Clare leaping towards her, fell over, screaming in terror as Clare landed beside her. There was no time to comfort the child as she heard the Honda strike the side of her beautiful dark blue Mercedes, spinning it round with the sickening sound of twisting metal. Clare looked up in horror at her car which now had a red Honda firmly planted where the front passenger door had been.
The Honda revved, Tamsin crunching the gears as she tried to back it away from the Merc but they were twisted together. Clare saw Paddy struggling with his door but it too had buckled on impact and was stuck fast. Tamsin’s door opened and she staggered out. Paddy began crawling over the front seat to follow her as one of the cars from Cupar arrived. Two officers leapt out, one of them closing the Honda door to prevent Paddy escaping. The other set off after Tamsin but he wasn’t as quick as Clare. Driven by fury at the fate of her beloved car, she found a speed she didn’t know she possessed. She reached Tamsin and brought her down. Clare landed on top of her and grabbed Tamsin’s hands, twisting them behind her back. The other officer arrived and snapped his handcuffs round Tamsin’s pudgy wrists.
With her knee still in Tamsin’s back, Clare caught her breath then began, ‘Tamsin Quinn, I am arresting you on suspicion of money laundering, contrary to The Proceeds of Crime Act 2002. You do not have to say anything—’
Chris appeared at her side. ‘Jesus, Clare – your car…’
Clare continued to deliver the caution and, when she had finished, she handed Tamsin over to Sara and Robbie who Chris had radioed. She rose to her feet and surveyed the wreckage of her Merc. ‘Might need a lift,’ she said to Chris who, seeing the tears in her eyes, put an arm round her shoulder and steered her towards his car.
Chapter 35
‘So Tamsin and Paddy Grant set Phil Quinn up?’ Chris asked.
‘Looks that way.’ Clare was cradling a mug of coffee, the shock of the events in Balmullo starting to recede. She was nibbling on a Wagon Wheel Chris had secreted away for emergencies.
‘I thought Sara had confiscated these?’
‘This is my emergency stash,’ he said. ‘Only, you mustn’t tell her about it.’
Clare smiled. ‘Where do you keep them?’
Chris tapped his nose. ‘I could tell you, Clare, but then I’d have to kill you.’
‘Okay, no more questions.’ She bit into the Wagon Wheel again then, through a mouthful of marshmallow, she said, ‘You know, I reckon Tamsin could see that Phil’s days were numbered. She must have realised we were getting close to him and decided to bargain for her own freedom.’
‘And Paddy and her?’
‘Probably carrying on behind Phil’s back for years. It explains why the cops couldn’t find Paddy when they arrested Phil and the others. I reckon Tamsin would know we were about to arrest Phil and warned Paddy to clear out.’
Chris shook his head. ‘So much for honour among thieves.’
Clare laughed. ‘Was there ever?’
Chris shrugged. ‘Maybe not. Reck
on we’ll get them for Johannes’s murder?’
‘I’m hopeful we’ll get Paddy. Depends on DNA, though. Has anyone taken samples?’
‘Yeah. We took a sample from Paddy. It should be at the lab within the hour. I spoke to Raymond Curtice and he’s promised to rush it through. Hopefully we can recover the blue Transit van as well – the Dundee cops are keeping an eye out for it over there. And when we do get it I’ll bet my pension we find Johannes’s DNA in the back.’ He picked up the Wagon Wheel and broke a bit off. ‘There’s always Rose – Paddy’s sister. She might give us something on Tamsin.’
‘I doubt it. You saw how she was when we interviewed her. A tough nut, that one. All that psyching Tamsin out at the trial – it was all for show.’
‘Maybe when she’s staring a sentence in the face,’ Chris suggested.
Clare shrugged. ‘Yeah, maybe. But I’m not convinced we’ll be able to pin anything on Rose. If we build a case based on Tamsin and Paddy being in it together, then Rose intimidating her at the trial doesn’t stand up.’ She sipped at her coffee again then said, ‘We can charge her with Threatening Behaviour towards Marek but a clever defence counsel could easily destroy that. The Fiscal might decide to drop the charges against her and concentrate on Tamsin.’
‘But if none of them talk? If they all stick to the same story,’ Chris said, ‘and if we don’t get a DNA match, we could end up losing all three.’
‘Frankly, Chris, I’d rather not think about that. Although I have had an idea…’
‘Yeah?’
‘Phil Quinn. He sat in court listening to his wife destroy him – giving enough evidence to send him down for years. So I’m guessing he won’t feel much loyalty towards Tamsin. After all, he did try to pin it all on her when he was cross-examined.’
‘You think he’ll testify against her?’
Clare nodded. ‘He pretty much already has, at his own trial. He’s nothing to lose. And if I was his solicitor, I’d be advising him to do all he can to minimise his sentence.’
‘True. Fingers crossed, then.’
Suddenly Clare remembered Marek. ‘What have you done with the lad?’
‘Nita spoke to the DCI and he’s been bailed, subject to surrendering his passport. Corinne Sim’s going to come back and help us review the money laundering charges. With the Gruesome Threesome in custody, there didn’t seem any need to keep him here.’
Clare nodded and they fell silent for a few moments. Then Chris said, ‘What about your car? Reckon they’ll write it off?’
‘God, I hope not. I’m pretty sure it’ll be worth fixing. I just hope the insurers aren’t sticky about it.’
‘Think they might be?’
Clare shrugged. ‘Maybe. I mean, I did park it broadside across the road. They could argue I took an unnecessary risk.’
Chris’s eyes narrowed. ‘If they try anything like that, we’ll make such a bloody noise on your behalf.’
Clare forced a smile. ‘Thanks Chris. Suppose I’d better get to the form filling.’
There was a tap at the door and Gayle’s head poked round. Her expression was grave. ‘Clare – I heard what happened. Are you okay?’
‘Yeah, I’m fine, thanks. Just glad we picked that pair up. Hopefully we can make the charges stick.’
‘Goodness, I don’t envy you this job – not one bit.’
‘Easier than yours, I suspect,’ Clare said.
‘How’s the new comms system coming along?’ Chris asked.
Clare’s eyes widened at his barefaced cheek. She didn’t dare look at Gayle, focusing instead on her coffee mug.
Gayle met Chris’s gaze, one eyebrow raised. ‘Very well, thank you. In fact, I’m done here. All finished. I just came to say I’m leaving now.’
Clare threw Chris a look and rose, steering Gayle out into the front office. Jim was at the desk while Sara and Robbie were in the incident room, writing up their account of the events in Balmullo. ‘Your – work… you say it’s all finished?’
Gayle nodded. ‘As I say, Clare, my report will be submitted. You may see some ripples in the next week or two as a result. But I’m done here.’ She gave Clare a smile, the frostiness from earlier all gone.
Clare hoped it had been forgiven and forgotten. It certainly seemed that way. ‘I wish I hadn’t been so busy,’ she said. ‘It would have been nice to have spent a bit more time together.’
Suddenly Gayle pulled Clare towards her and gave her a hug. Clare felt the soft wool of Gayle’s jacket against her neck. Her scent wasn’t one Clare recognised. She tried to put a finger on it. Was it bergamot? Or a spiced orange? It was intriguing. Like Gayle.
Then she pulled back, holding Clare at arm’s length. ‘You don’t get rid of me that easily, Clare,’ she said. ‘We’re kindred spirits, you and I. Let’s keep in touch.’
Clare smiled. ‘I’d like that.’
Then Gayle picked up her work bags and, tossing her scarf over her neck, walked out of the station.
‘DCI on the phone,’ Jim said, cutting across Clare’s thoughts.
Her heart sank. She hoped he wasn’t going to have another go at her about the invoice for the golf event. She’d had quite enough for one day. She turned and made for her office. ‘Can you put it through, Jim?’
She sat down behind her desk, suddenly dog tired. The phone buzzed and she picked it up.
‘Christ’s sake, Clare,’ he said. ‘Do you realise the risk you took?’
‘Good afternoon to you too.’
There was a pause then a sigh. ‘Sorry. It’s just… well, you could have been hurt. I mean, what if you hadn’t got out of the way in time? And your car!’
‘Ach, it’s fine, Al. I did get out of the way and maybe it’s nature’s way of telling me a Mercedes is out of my league. Maybe I should join the Ford Focus club.’
‘Hah, touché. Look, Clare…’ He hesitated, his voice softening. ‘Do you want to grab lunch some time? Have a proper catch-up – now that things are calming down a bit. I mean, only if you want…’
Clare’s lips began to form into a smile. He hadn’t even mentioned that mistake with the invoice. ‘That would be nice.’
‘How about this weekend?’ he said. ‘We could do the parkrun and maybe grab a bite to eat after.’
Clare glanced at her watch. Shit! She had completely forgotten her sister, brother-in-law and nephew were coming that evening. ‘Al – sorry, just remembered. I can’t do this weekend. In fact, I need to get away. My sister—’
‘Yeah, okay, Clare…’
‘Honestly, Al. It’s been arranged for weeks. But next weekend for sure.’
‘It’s fine, Clare. Don’t worry. Look, I’d better go. Paperwork, you know.’
And with that he ended the call. Clare put the phone down slowly, mulling this over. He was so quick to take offence. Maybe it was just too much trouble. Maybe it would be easier if they kept their relationship strictly professional. But part of her thought that would be a pity.
There was a tap at the door and Chris came in, holding a set of car keys. ‘Your insurers have sent a hire car. It’s just been dropped off in the car park.’
Clare looked up, without enthusiasm. ‘Don’t suppose it’s another Merc?’
‘Ford Focus, I think the guy said.’
Clare laughed. It would be. She took the keys from Chris and pushed back her chair. ‘I’ve had enough for one day, Chris. I’m going home. I’m off this weekend but, if there are any issues with Tamsin and Paddy, just call.’
* * *
Clare’s sister Jude, brother-in-law Frank and her toddler nephew James had already arrived by the time she reached home. Benjy, beyond himself with delight at all these visitors, ran round and round, chasing his tail, sending the TV remote control skidding across the wooden floor. Clare saw that they had put the mail on the dining table and she scanned the letters and flyers quickly, establishing there was nothing that couldn’t wait. A flyer on top caught her eye. Cadham Rest Care Home – a few miles outsid
e Glenrothes. Where had she seen that before?
‘We let ourselves in,’ Jude said, holding her arms out to give Clare a hug. ‘Hope you don’t mind?’
Clare thought Jude had lost weight. Her pale pink jeans were loose around the legs now and her blouse seemed to hang straight down. She left the letters and went to embrace her sister. As she pulled her into a hug, she felt there was nothing of her. Jude was so thin now that Clare felt, if she hugged her sister too hard, she might break her bones. ‘Don’t be daft,’ she said. ‘I told you to use the key in the box.’ She grinned at her brother-in-law. ‘How are you, Frank? How’s the world of education?’
‘Oh, you know, Clare. Same old same old. Mostly fine, though.’
Clare turned and knelt down next to her nephew who was standing uncertainly, one arm clutching his mother’s leg. He wasn’t a baby any longer. She smiled at him and took his hand. ‘And how’s my James? Looking forward to staying with Aunty Clare?’
James stared back at Clare, unsmiling.
‘He’s packed a big bag of toys,’ Jude said, indicating a blue child’s backpack on the floor.
Suddenly Clare had a flashback to the children making their way along the road in Balmullo, their backpacks hanging off their shoulders – or from their mothers’ arms – and she shivered at the memory of what might have happened, had she not screamed at them all to get away from the Honda. Then she put these thoughts to the back of her mind. ‘Can I see?’ she said to James.
He moved towards the bag, his eyes fixed on Clare, and he reached inside, taking out a blue Thomas the Tank Engine train. He held it out for Clare to see. She took it carefully and began to wheel it along the floor. James bent and took the train back from Clare and replaced it in the bag.
‘You are honoured,’ Frank said. ‘It’s not everyone who gets to touch his trains.’
Clare smiled. ‘We’re going to have fun this weekend, aren’t we James?’
* * *
Over dinner, they told Clare about James’s progress.