His thoughts strayed again to Kelsa’s missing weekend. Was that where J had acquired the stocking and the knickers? How could he find out? Was it too late now to try?
He took out his phone and photographed the stocking from multiple angles. Wearing the yellow gloves, he rolled it up, starting at the foot until he reached the thick elasticated top that held it in place at the top of her thigh. As the material came off the floor, and as he pushed it into the clear bag, his phone pinged with another message.
His heart punched out the beats as if the man was standing over him, directing his thoughts.
[2019-01-20: 21:42] Matchmaker, matchmaker, make me a match. Find me a find, catch me a catch. If I give you my number, will you promise to call me, wait till my husband’s away. J
44
Shoogly Nails
Before the light broke on the eastern horizon on Monday morning, Carter drove straight to the forensic suite in FOC Fettes. He asked for a private meeting with Rocketman.
‘What can I do for you, Leccy?’ CTO Johnstone said relatively formally, after arranging a breakfast of coffee and biscuits.
‘The evidence I brought in last Thursday,’ Carter said. ‘I wasn’t entirely honest with you.’
‘Knickers sent to you in the post, belonging to Alice Deacon.’ Rocketman’s face resembled a stone wall; solid, impregnable, unforgiving.
‘Your tech processed them.’
‘Michelle. Knows her stuff.’
‘Confirmed that the DNA on the knickers matched the hair DNA—’ Carter continued, without waiting for confirmation. ‘On my wife Kelsa’s hairbrush.’
‘Your recently buried wife, Kelsa?’
‘Yes.’
‘OK,’ Rocketman sat back in his chair. ‘Let’s put aside procedure and disciplinary complications for the moment. Why did you do it?’
‘They could have been Alice’s—’
‘You knew they weren’t.’ Rocketman was nobody’s fool.
‘I suspected they weren’t but had to prove it.’ The confession wasn’t healing his soul.
‘Confirming your wife had an affair in the process.’
‘Yes,’ Carter said sheepishly.
‘You put Michelle in a difficult position after she’d processed evidence you led us to believe was related to Alice Deacon. I don’t like detectives fucking my staff around, so I’ve made sure she’s in the clear. However, your coat’s on a shoogly nail, Sergeant. What happens next will decide when it falls to the floor.’
‘DCI McKinlay?’ Carter asked, beginning to feel the nail loosen.
‘My discretion – for now. Your reputation is eroding fast, although I’m intrigued why you’d go to the lengths of sacrificing your career for a dead wife and a dead affair.’
Carter pulled out the clear plastic bag from his pocket and placed it on the table. ‘One of Kelsa’s stockings. When I returned home last night, this was lying on our bedroom floor. I don’t sleep there any more, for obvious reasons.’
‘A break-in by your wife’s lover?’ Rocketman sat forward, intrigued.
‘No sign of forced entry.’
‘He has a key?’
‘I can’t think of any other way,’ Carter said flatly.
‘He could deny it, no evidence of a break-in, etcetera, etcetera,’ said Rocketman to himself. ‘You believe he’s stalking you?’
‘Stalking is a criminal offence,’ said Carter. Rocketman acknowledged the fact with a nod. ‘But I’m more concerned about what else he’s trying to prove. You don’t know about the text messages.’
‘He’s been texting you?’ Rocketman was stunned. ‘Cheryl knows this, I assume?’
‘Not just your standard SMS. There is no name. He remotely erases the texts he sends.’
‘A puzzle for our Glasgow colleagues,’ mused Rocketman.
Carter pushed the bag across the table. ‘Can we set up a separate case file?’
‘For the stalking? The gift of DCI McKinlay corroborated with Chief Superintendent Goodwin’s rubber stamp, I’m afraid. The submitted evidence is one pair of knickers and a single stocking, belonging to your dead wife. Her DNA, your DNA and that of an unknown male, crime of passion clearly established. My apology for being brutal, but what’s the crime and who’s the criminal? If it were to find the Fiscal’s inbox, she’d say “next case please”. As it stands.’
‘So, what do I do?’ said Carter, feeling the ground shifting under his feet. ‘There’s a new text on my phone, not yet erased.’
Rocketman examined the plastic bag, then looked at the message on Carter’s phone.
‘Classic cunt, I’d say. The fact he’s actually sent this to you means he thinks he’s untouchable. The rhyme will have a twisted meaning, and it may or may not mean anything to you or anyone else. What do you think?’
‘The matchmaker quote is just a taunt,’ said Carter, carefully. ‘The text before this one proved he was having an affair with Kelsa, so he’s unlikely to give me his number, is he?’
‘He might be saying you already have it, so you should call him. I’ve seen this kind of taunting before, in a case in Arizona, years ago, but never using a mobile phone. Dr Flowers may be your best bet: psychos are her bag.’
‘What about the procedure angle?’
‘Between you and me for the moment. I’ll authorise Michelle to process the stocking, and we’ll take it from there, keeping it under Alice’s file for now. I think you’re right: he’s got it in for you. He wants you to suffer emotionally. The longer you don’t show any signs of worry, the more anxious he’ll get, meaning he’ll get bolder and might make a mistake. My advice is to bring all physical items sent by him directly to me, don’t respond if he gives you the option and for God’s sake, don’t tell Cheryl or anyone else about the stocking. Otherwise, we’ll both be in the shite.’
‘Thank you, sir,’ Carter felt genuinely relieved.
‘And for what it’s worth, the first lines originate from the musical, Fiddler on the Roof. Maybe it’s a clue.’
45
Leashed
Carter parked the Smart car in the rear car park, accessed through St Leonard’s Lane. Tam Watson was in his usual place behind the booking desk.
‘You’ve missed the Monday meeting, Leccy,’ he said by way of greeting. ‘DCI McKinlay wants to see you, but she’s busy right now.’
‘I’ll be at my desk,’ he said.
In the detectives’ room, Charli Garcia made eye contact as he sat down.
‘Morning, Leccy,’ she said breezily. ‘Have a good weekend?’
‘Morning, Charli,’ he replied, aware they were using code.
‘I’ve arranged the statements from the names on your list,’ she said.
‘Well done.’ At least some progress had been made.
‘I’ve made them up based on proximity to the Reverend. Two men saw her in the bar sitting with another man. Both witnesses said they were there with each other, but he was laughing. She had a face like a “soor ploom”. They left around eleven-thirty. She was drunk, staggering about.’
‘Did these witnesses give you a description of him?’
‘Large man, broad-shouldered, six-foot-tall and more, wearing a dark-ish suit and an open-necked white shirt,’ she read from her notes. ‘Dark cropped hair, clean-shaven. They would recognise him if we made pictures. Another witness outside saw two people staggering along the street. He was too drunk, didn’t see what they looked like.’
‘Names?’ asked Carter.
‘John Smith and Teddy Morrison were in the pub. Stewart Allison was on the street.’
‘Search our systems, see if we have pictures of Jimmy Logan,’ Carter said.
‘OK, I’m on it,’ Garcia replied.
‘If we do, show it to Smith and Morrison and gauge their reaction. Anything of use from the others? Jacky Dodds?’
‘His phone rang out, but you’d already made up ICRS,’ she replied.
‘Dodds fits the description too, he’s the same build a
s Logan, but his hair is reddish-brown. Try his picture on the two witnesses. He’s got a profile for sexual assault, but he could be trying to up his game. What about Nathan Butler? Dodds told me he was in the bar too.’
‘I spoke to him,’ she said.
‘You found another number for him?’ Carter was surprised.
‘Yes. I called the council tax on their emergency line; they gave me a number and a home in Murrayfield. Your queries were in ICRS. I asked about the home and phone number. He said his phone was stolen in the Reverend and thought we were calling because we’d recovered it.’
‘Does he think Dodds nicked it?’ Carter asked.
‘I didn’t ask that. Sorry.’
‘Did he see anything of Alice?’
‘No. He was there for a business meeting. It wasn’t regular for him.’
‘Late at night? Did he say who he was meeting?’
‘No, and I didn’t know to ask that either. But the only person I’ve not spoken to is Joe Moore,’ Charli said. ‘The phone rings twice then stops. No voicemail. His address is Deptford in London.’
‘I’ve heard Deptford mentioned,’ Carter replied, thinking. ‘But I can’t remember where.’
‘I was bored on Sunday afternoon, so I went to Alice’s flat to search for videos.’
‘Did you find anything?’
‘A laptop that has a password. She has a large collection of commercial movies on DVD, but I found DVDs with hand-writing. Some are sex.’
Carter gazed at her but said nothing. She picked up on his cue.
‘I’ve scanned it. Made from the internet. She is not in scenes I’ve seen if that is what you think. I found two DVDs with copies of client projects. I can’t tell if any will help us.’
‘OK, well done. We have specialist officers who deal with porn. Send those DVDs to them but keep the client DVDs here. I’ll have a look at them later. Send the laptop to Gavin Roy’s team in Glasgow. Now, read all the case notes in ICRS, review the evidence and tell me what you think. I’m going to see DCI McKinlay.’ Carter stood up and put his coat over his arm.
He knocked on DCI McKinlay’s office door and went in. ‘You wanted to see me, ma’am.’
She didn’t ask him to sit, so he stood.
‘Where were you this morning, Leccy?’
‘I headed straight to FOC Fettes to see if they had any more insights from Alice’s evidence, ma’am. We’ve got her laptop and some DVDs to go through.’
She regarded him with a long stare. ‘You could at least have called to say where you were. You know the rules.’
‘Sorry, ma’am.’
‘Dr Flowers gave us all an update on her new role, as sanctioned by the Chief Super. Pity ye weren’t there to hear it, eh?’
‘She told me that the Chief—’
McKinlay cut him short with a wave of her hand. ‘What’s your interest in Jacky Dodds?’
‘He was in the bar when Alice was there. His description fits the profile. I’ve asked DC Garcia to follow up witnesses with his picture.’
McKinlay had more to say. ‘Dodds isn’t your man.’
‘With respect, ma’am.’
‘Don’t “with respect” me, Sergeant Carter.’ McKinlay looked like she was going to explode. ‘I might spend most of my day pushing paper, but I know what’s goin’ on out there and who’s doin’ it. Jesus, he’s in his sixties. Dinnae waste your time on him. You have other suspects?’
Carter was about to reply, but McKinlay got her retaliation in first. ‘We need to wrap this up, Carter. Alice’s parents have called the Chief Super, demanding an arrest. Turns out Paw is also a friend of your father-in-law, amongst other connections, and I can feel the rope being twisted right now. Maybe you’re too wrapped up in your wife’s death to give it your full attention. I’m seriously considering taking you off duty. Dr Flowers was right, you’re not ready yet.’
‘Ma’am,’ Carter began, but she held up her hand.
‘End of the week, Sergeant Carter. Bring me a solid case, or you’re back on your own couch. Report to DI Mason every couple of hours. Clear?’
‘Very,’ he acknowledged.
46
Suspect Suspect
Back in the detectives’ room, he went straight to Charli Garcia. ‘Have you contacted those witnesses? Shown them Dodds’ picture?’
‘I’ve not had time.’
‘Priority. I know Dodds was in the Reverend, but I don’t know if Logan was in the bar too. Phone me as soon as you’ve got answers.’
‘Where are you going?’
‘To eliminate Jacky Dodds from this enquiry.’
Half an hour later, he parked the Smart car on the street outside Dodds’ flat. He rang the bell a few times but got no immediate answer. A few minutes later, the entry door opened, and an older woman was caught by surprise when Carter flashed his warrant card in her face. ‘Jacky Dodds?’
‘What’s he done now?’ asked the woman.
‘Have you seen him since Friday?’
‘Oh, I don’t know.’
Carter gave her his card. ‘Call me, please, if you see him. I’m concerned for his welfare.’ He drove the half-mile to Polwarth Church, where the drop-in was in full swing. He had a chat with the minister, mentioning only that he’d last seen Jacky in a panic running along Church Hill. Reverend Alec Booth wasn’t daft.
‘I’m guessing you don’t know him that well, Sergeant Carter, in a non-professional capacity?’
‘No. But a woman was raped in Dalry Burial Ground recently, and it’s important we find him. They were in the same bar at the same time.’
‘That’ll be Jimmy Logan’s pub. Jacky is a creature of habit. I’ve known him for years, but I’m sure he’s not your man.’
‘That’s the second time I’ve heard that today,’ Carter said. ‘Mind telling me why?’
‘Confidential, I’m afraid, even in the circumstances of rape, but you can take it from me. It wasn’t Jacky.’
‘How sure are you?’
‘As sure as God’s love treasures all humanity.’
‘Hmm, that sure,’ said Carter. ‘Thanks, Reverend. How do you know Logan? I wouldn’t have thought you and him would be chatting over tea and cake.’
‘Mr Logan knows my view of him. He’s not on my Christmas card list, although I seem to be on his.’
Carter let it go and was walking towards the church hall’s exit door when someone hailed him by name.
‘Leccy, ye not stoppin’ to chat? It’s waarrm in here. The soup’s good, and it’s free,’ the man said, waving his hand for Carter to sit beside him. ‘C’mon, Trisha will get you a cuppa, won’t ya, ya sexy bitch?’
Carter sat down, assessing the woman standing in front of him with big red hair and a body like a burst sack of turnips. She slammed a mug of tea onto the table in front of Carter. ‘Watch your mouth, Duggie McLean, or I’ll shove this teapot so far up your arse ye’ll be shittin’ tea leaves till Easter.’
‘She loves it dirty,’ he whispered into Carter’s ear. ‘How’s the heid? I’m sorry I clubbed ye, but ye cannae take chances. What ye doin’ in here?’
‘Lookin’ for you,’ said Carter seamlessly. ‘Remember the guy in the graveyard? Any chance it was Jacky Dodds?’
‘Still no’ caught him, eh?’ Duggie chuckled. ‘It wasn’t Jacky, I can tell ye that for free. I know him. The way he wanders around. Bent at the shoulders like, and clumsy. Aye, he’s powerful. If his mind is set, ye’ll no shake him. Aye, it was dark and all, but the boy you’re looking for was precise. Knew what he was doin’, the way a fox guts a chicken. Know what I mean?’
‘Why is everyone so sure it’s not Jacky Dodds?’ Carter asked.
Duggie got serious, leaning in conspiratorially, his voice a whisper. ‘I grew up with Jacky, we were in the same class. He was a bit slow and became a target for the neds. Kept an eye on him, me and some mates. But one day, when he was fifteen, they cornered him in the Braid woods and carved him up. Ming Dalby did it, slimy litt
le cunt. Thought he was a hard man, died in Saughton. Sliced Jacky’s sausage and tatties clean off. The doc couldn’t stick them back on.’
Carter put his head in his hands.
‘He’s anxious around women, keeps away from them, then you lot hassle him for shite. He panics.’
‘Does he work for Jimmy Logan?’
‘Jimmy looks after him, has a wee soft spot for him,’ Duggie laughed at his own humour. ‘Right, that’s enough, I’m no’ spillin’ all my secrets. Leave Jacky alone.’
Outside the church, Carter’s phone rang. It was Charli Garcia.
‘Both witnesses say it wasn’t Jacky Dodds.’
‘I get it, I really do.’
47
More Drawing Boards
Back at St Leonard’s, Carter sat with DC Garcia looking through the mobile phone analysis in the detectives’ room. Her face was lit up in astonishment.
‘You’ve got an interactive map of all the mobile phones. That’s amazing.’
‘It’s helping,’ said Carter. ‘But not as much as you might think.’
‘What are the limitations?’ Garcia was still enthralled.
‘The phones must be switched on and need triangulation by at least two masts to determine a location. If the phone is on, but asleep, it won’t check in with a mast until there’s activity, like a text or call.’
‘Any GPS?’ she asked.
‘We get that from whatever GPS services are enabled on the phone. Mainly Google and Apple.’
A Wife Worth Dying For Page 15
