The printing firm remained stubbornly uncooperative and had engaged a senior lawyer to defend the confidentiality of their records and actions. The same lawyer was also representing Geoffrey Manquers MP. The young lady of easy virtue – the only one practising in the area at the time – who had been sharing Dougal Walsh’s bed at the time of his arrest had no such representation and was quite willing to talk with a freedom and frankness that one inquisitor said made his hair curl, but she knew very little. She was an occasional visitor to Walsh’s cottage. She knew that he was sometimes absent ‘on business’ but had little idea where he went or what he did when he got there. She knew that the car was not his but appeared mysteriously when he had to make one of his trips. Beyond that, she only knew that after his return from ‘up north’ he had at first had no use for her services and then had suddenly changed his mind and made furious and frequent use of them.
At last there were signs that the tide was turning in favour of the Law. It is in the nature of crime that the criminal tries very hard to conceal his identity and everything else. Most cases therefore begin in what seems to be a dead end until a breakthrough occurs. Sandy began to bring her news of occasional breaks.
‘You remember the girl writing that she used her date of birth as the combination of the wall safe in the cottage? Silly question,’ he said quickly, ‘you’re the original memory maiden.’
Honey would have laughed, but this was before her operation and laughter hurt her shoulder. She managed a grin. ‘It’s some while since I was a maiden,’ she said. ‘Otherwise yes, I remember what Cheryl wrote.’
‘When they opened the safe – which was behind the wall clock, by the way – there was a watch in it.’
‘She also wrote that he gave her a watch,’ Honey said.
‘Indeed yes. Somebody who knows about watches examined it and it turned out not to be the cheap copy that they’d supposed but a very good original. Following up from the serial number they found that it had been part of the haul from a burglary in Erskine about three years ago. Other items from that burglary were traced to a fence who’s a known buddy of Ravitski. There wasn’t enough proof to proceed even against the fence, but with Walsh’s fingerprints all over it . . .’
‘It all adds up.’
On another visit, Sandy came in shaking raindrops off his waterproofs. He had collected a cup of coffee for himself off a trolley that had not yet reached Honey’s room. He gave his wife a kiss in which she could read a disconcerting degree of patience and lowered himself into the rather flimsy armchair. ‘What do you remember of the pistol that shot you?’ he asked.
Honey thought back for a minute. ‘It looked like the Colt Mustang 380,’ she said.
‘And you say that you don’t have a photographic memory! That’s exactly what it was. It was one of a batch stolen in transit. It was fired during an attempted – and incompetent – bank hold-up. The culprit was caught. Over the grapevine and off the record, I hear that he was offered Reckless Discharge instead of Attempted Murder if he’d say how the pistol came into his hands. He named Ravitski, who of course denied it absolutely and stuck to his denial. Again, not enough evidence to proceed on but, as you say, it all adds up.’
‘So it does. And what else is added to it?’
‘That’s about it for now. The forensic science lab is still working on our answerphone tape. They’ve cleaned it up and separated the voice from the background noises. The voiceprint will be good enough to identify the speaker if we ever find him. Among the background noises they have a chiming clock and the voice of a newsvendor which combine to suggest a particular small area of Glasgow. Once again, if we find the man with the voice we may have confirmation.’
The very next day Honey accused Sandy of looking like the cat that got the cream. ‘I wouldn’t be at all surprised,’ Sandy said. ‘One brick isn’t much on its own, but take enough bricks and put them together and you have a wall. We found a credit card in Walsh’s cottage. Before he clammed up, he swore that it must have belonged to the tart who was with him when we came calling. But, as I told the meeting, Mr Largs’s men found a filling station where Walsh filled up on the way back south, using that credit card; and the man they caught spying on your father’s house had a similar card, on the same account, in his wallet. They’re going back through transactions on that account. That should surely lead them back to somebody connected to Ravitski.’
Two days later, he was smiling again. ‘We got a recording of Ravitski’s voice. The chaps in Forensics are prepared to swear that the voice on our answerphone tape is his.’
These signs that the case was on the move reminded Honey that it was all passing her by. Also, the sun was shining and the glow found its way into a corner of the room. The scene outside could have passed for summer. ‘I’m getting nowhere with Walsh,’ she said. ‘I think it’s time that I gave up and came back to work.’
‘Work?’ Sandy said. ‘I’ve been arguing with Mr Blackhouse that you are still at work. He wanted to count this against your maternity leave and I tried him on adding your time in here as authorized sick leave but he wouldn’t wear it.’
‘Never mind all that. We’ll get our sunshine holiday when this is over. I’m damn sure Walsh is swinging the lead and the hospital wants beds. I suggest that I’ll discharge myself and we get them to kick Walsh out unless he speaks up.’
Sandy was nodding. ‘Leave it a day or two, I’ll talk it over with the chiefs.’
Chapter Twenty-Five
There had been an outbreak of a serious flu virus, highly resistant to the inoculations of the previous autumn. The hospital, which was desperately short of beds, discharged Honey with almost indecent haste. She said a less than fond farewell to Dougal Walsh but promised to visit him. He was in a surly mood so she advised him that if he was expecting her to arrive with fruit or flowers he should not hold his breath.
She found the house in reasonable order, considering that it had been in solely male occupancy for many weeks. The guest policeman had returned to his own flat, with apparent reluctance, a fortnight earlier. The Lairds were happy to share the explosion of loving that they had promised. When exhaustion intervened they turned their minds to more practical matters. They packed up the dirty laundry and visited the Potterton-Phipps family home where the laundry facilities were not only superior but were the responsibility of a laundry maid. They found Minka and June safe and well and apparently contented. Honey’s one great fear had been that during her absence in hospital her baby had forgotten her, but she was sure that she could detect signs of recognition from Minka, so it was agreed that June and the baby could remain where they were for a little longer, out of reach of the flu virus.
That this was wise was confirmed by a phone call that arrived shortly after their return home. Honey had refused the offer of a meal out and had rather enjoyed having the use of her own kitchen for a change. When the phone rang they were relaxing, somnolent and replete, in the sitting room. Sandy picked it up but without hurrying. They had adopted the habit of letting the answerphone kick in, so Honey could hear every word.
The same voice with the Glasgow accent and the metallic ring to it spoke. ‘You may think that your baby is safe with her granddad but you don’t realize how far I’m prepared to go. I have a long arm and you’re well within reach. Turn Walsh loose and drop your questions or you’ll go back to being a childless couple.’ Honey tried to grab the cordless phone but Sandy fended her off. ‘And it won’t stop there,’ the voice finished off.
Despite his own earlier words, Sandy broke in, ‘Mr Ravitski,’ he said, ‘you are peeing into the wind. Your voice has already been identified by voiceprint and this call is going on to tape. Walsh is free to walk out of the hospital but he prefers it where he is. And I can hardly blame him. He knows that your man Sullivan Gibbs tried to visit him, carrying a syringe loaded with a lethal dose of sodium azide . . .’ Sandy broke off as he found himself speaking to empty air. The phone had gone suddenly dead.
‘Possibly. But possibly not. I had to disabuse him of any idea that he could get his way by threatening us, because he might have tried to go ahead with his threats. I only told him that his voice had been recognized. He should still know nothing about how far the main investigation has progressed, and if he does know anything he didn’t get it from me.’
‘I suppose that’s true. All right, I’ll forgive you.’
‘You relieve me. I’ve been sensing that our trinity of seniors has been feeling impatient. I’m going to suggest that we stir it up a bit.’
Honey considered his words. ‘How big is “a bit”?’ she enquired.
‘As a first step, I suggest that we use this flu outbreak as an excuse to boot Walsh out into the world, and then keep tabs on him. If he feels both endangered and resentful over the death of his ladylove, the cat may be among the pigeons. And when pussy gets among the dickey-birds, truth comes down among the feathers.’
Honey gave some more thought. ‘Well,’ she said at last, ‘don’t put that idea forward as coming from me. If they go for it, you’ll be endangering a lot of people. Walsh himself. Any Glasgow heavies that Ravitski sends after him. And, of course, any of our boys that you send on Walsh’s tail to guard him.’
‘I think you’re overstating the case. I’ve just convinced Ravitski that his identity is known and that he’d be mad to go after Walsh.’
‘If he believed you.’
‘If he believed me. But I said his name. He’d have to believe me.’
‘I am not a passionate admirer of that idea,’ Honey said. ‘If you want to go ahead with it, give me one more crack at him first. What I suggest is that you tell Walsh that he’s being discharged. You take the armed guard off and hide him round the corner where Walsh can’t see him. Then, when Walsh feels thoroughly exposed and vulnerable, I’ll breeze in on a friendly visit and tell him that there’s no danger. That should set warning bells ringing. He’ll think it’s a trick. This time, my offer of a safe haven in some prison kitchen a long way away may not fall on quite such deaf ears.’
‘That,’ Sandy said, ‘is not bad. I can always trust you to come up with the devious answer. There’s just one small snag. I don’t care how good a cook he is, I don’t like the idea of letting him loose in a kitchen with all those knives around. It might give him ideas about taking a hostage as a first step towards escape. I suggest that you think more along the lines of a library or a laundry.’
‘I’ll sleep on it,’ Honey said.
Sandy waggled his eyebrows at her. ‘I’d rather that you slept on me.’
‘I can do both,’ Honey said happily. ‘Golly, is your passion never spent?’
‘It was a long time to go without. And in my experience if you let a chance go by, the next opportunity can turn out to be a long way off.’
‘I like your thinking,’ Honey said. ‘Come along.’
Chapter Twenty-Six
Two days and much debate went by before the bosses were in agreement to go ahead with the plan. It was the Wednesday morning before Honey got the go-ahead. The main cause of the delay had nothing to do with ethics or risk assessment. It was a matter of the flu.
The outbreak was said to be the most serious since the Asian flu of WWI, if not since the plagues of Egypt. The virus was steadily reducing the numbers of officers available for duty. A successful breakthrough in the cases of corruption over the proposed refinery and of the resurrection of gang culture in Strathclyde might precipitate a sudden demand for officers. The question was whether to try to precipitate and conclude matters before things got worse or to wait for them to get better. The risk that the epidemic might last long enough for the conspirators to make their killing and cover their tracks was the deciding factor. Honey was told to get on with it.
Honey decided to make her first move almost immediately. She drove home, bolted a hasty lunch and changed into uniform complete with radio clipped to her left breast. She had wondered whether something flimsy and clinging might not trigger Walsh’s dread of all things feminine, but after consulting Sandy she had decided that the combination of her gender with the authority of the uniform might do the trick again. She paid particular attention to her grooming.
The day had turned bright and sunny – one of those days that assure us, quite wrongly, that spring is here at last. The New Royal Infirmary looked whiter than its usual pale grey against a dark blue sky. She found a parking space not too far from the main doors and hesitated at the shops. But no, to arrive bearing gifts would strike the wrong note.
There was one very noticeable change. Walsh’s room seemed strangely uninhabited without an armed guard in evidence. But she had seen a lurking figure near the nurses’ station.
If she was reassured, Walsh was not. His first words of greeting were, ‘Where’s that big gadgie got to?’
Honey took her time seating herself. She placed the usual tape recorder beside the bed and started it recording. ‘Your nursemaid? We decided he’d be more use back on general duty. You’re being discharged from hospital in the morning, didn’t you know? It’s Saughton for you.’
He shook his head. ‘When did anybody tell anyone anything around here? Hey, you’re throwing me to the wolves?’
Honey sometimes regretted that her nose was not suited to looking down at people and this was just such an occasion. ‘The wolves can have you. You’re no use to us. You’ve told us nothing useful. The general feeling is that you don’t know anything. You may have been used as an errand boy, but that means very little. If you were sent to so-and-so’s house without knowing what was in the message, who cares?’
‘Messages are for remembering, not for writing down. I could tell you a whole lot you want to know,’ Walsh said. ‘If I wanted to.’
‘When you want to, give me a bell. I could fix you up with a nice little job. You choose the prison. Anywhere in Britain or Ireland, except a women’s prison. We draw the line there.’
Walsh was showing signs of genuine distress. There was sweat on his face and his eyes were staring. ‘They can’t put me out,’ he said weakly. ‘I’m still not right. I keep on telling them.’
‘And they keep on not believing you.’
There was a long silence. It was evident that Dougal Walsh was thinking very seriously. Honey could guess that he was balancing the risks of becoming an informer against the hope that Ravitski might be sucked down the legal drainpipe, leaving the gang leader with far more to worry about than Walsh and Ravitski’s tougher acolytes with no incentive to continue mayhem on his behalf.
Honey decided to press the thought home. ‘If you can give us anything to connect Ravitski with the rackets . . .’ she began.
‘I could,’ he said. ‘I surely could.’
‘Then do it. Save your own neck. And don’t forget that these are the people who forced you to kill your own woman. In your shoes I’d be out for blood.’
For almost the first time ever, he met her eyes. She thought she saw a hot little glow in his. ‘Maybe I’m not the vengeful type,’ he said. ‘You bugger off.’
He turned on his side away from her and she could not get another word out of him.
*
The figure lurking near the nurses’ station turned out to be the young constable who had been on guard during her first visit. He was not quite the invincible powerhouse that Honey had hoped for but when manpower is short you use what you can get. ‘Are you armed?’ she asked him.
He opened his loose raincoat to show a semi-automatic pistol. ‘Just passed the course last month, ma’am,’ he said proudly.
The position of the holster had a message for her. ‘You’re left-handed? If you ever have to fire it in anger, use your right hand to grip your left wrist, not your left hand. That gentleman in the bed there could tell you about the slide. Stay alert.’ She left him and walked to the lifts.
&nbs
p; Down on the entry level, she visited the shops and sought out a box of Sandy’s favourite chocolates. They were June’s favourite too, so she made it two boxes. She dropped them on the back seat of the Range Rover and got into the driver’s seat. Instead of her radio she used her mobile phone. Within seconds, Sandy was on the line.
Honey had had time to think. ‘Sandy, I think I blew it. I was both good cop and bad cop. I gave him the stick and dangled the carrot and I thought for a moment that I had him. Then suddenly he pulled down the shutters. I got something wrong somewhere.’
‘You did your best and that’s usually pretty damn good.’
‘I’d like to think so, but perhaps I made a mistake, reminding him about his girl,’ Honey said. ‘We’d better think about letting him go with a really good tail on him. If we arrest him just before he moves in for the kill, he may talk and so may his target.’
‘And who would you suppose his target would be?’
‘That’s the interesting bit. Wyper? Rigby? Ravitski? The MP – Manquers, if he’s the right one. Ah, yes, that could be very interesting.’
‘It would be dangerous but it could open things up. We’d better consult the bosses . . . Just a moment, my radio’s calling.’
‘I can hear it.’
He was back in a few seconds. ‘Control wants you but your radio’s switched off.’
‘I was out of the car and it doesn’t work inside the building. Hold on.’ She switched on her radio and contacted Control.
Control had an unfamiliar voice and sounded harrassed. ‘Oh, Inspector Laird. There’s been a call from the New Royal Infirmary. A patient has attacked somebody and absconded. You’re the nearest officer, in fact I think you’re still at the infirmary, aren’t you?’
In Loving Memory (Honey Laird Book 3) Page 19