Chapter 37
When the detectives pulled up outside the smart villa in Thorntonhall, Dani had an envelope containing an important document resting in her lap.
“The DCC has given us permission to arrest Mark Vogel on suspicion of conspiracy to murder,” she said. “But I’d like to hear what he has to say for himself first. Once we arrest him, the clock will be ticking.”
“I agree,” Ravi added. “I’m curious as to how much his wife knows about all this.”
“Let’s see if we can find out.” Dani climbed out of the passenger seat and approached the front door.
Anna Vogel answered swiftly. She peered at them suspiciously through a narrow gap between the door and the frame. “Can I help you?”
Both officers displayed their ID.
“Is your husband at home, Mrs Vogel?”
“Yes, he’s working in his study. Can I ask what this is about? Have you recovered the rest of our stolen property?”
“I’m afraid not. This visit is in relation to another matter. We have a warrant to enter and search these premises.” Dani patted her jacket pocket. “I’d appreciate it if you would let us in.”
Anna stood back in the shadows as the officers swept past her. The Vogels’ twins must have been watching television in the front room, as the theme to a popular kid’s show blared out from the open doorway.
Anna called meekly, “Mark! The police are here to speak to you again!” She disappeared to join her children.
Ravi and Dani stood in the unlit kitchen until they heard the man’s footsteps echo down the stairs.
He stood very still in the hallway. “What is this about? I’ve told your officers that their wild theories about my torch are a fantasy. I’m a lawyer, I know you’ve no authority to question me again.”
Dani waved the envelope. “We’ve got some fresh evidence, Mr Vogel. It’s proved enough to convince the Procurator Fiscal to re-open the investigation into the murder of Richard McGill in 2003.”
It was difficult to make out Vogel’s expression in the dim light. “What kind of evidence. I’ll need to see it.”
“We have a signed statement from Mrs Chouhanda Farhat, produced in the presence of the Chief of Police in Tunis, counter-signed by ourselves.” Ravi examined the man for signs of a response.
Vogel’s shoulders seemed to slump. “Can we talk here?”
“Yes,” Dani replied. “But then we’ll have to go to the station. We will be arresting you. Perhaps now would be a good time to ring your legal representative?”
He nodded. “I will call Victor, but I’d like to explain a few things first.”
Mark led them beyond the kitchen into a pleasant sun-room facing the garden. He pulled the door closed behind them. The evening sun was pouring through the tall panes of glass, making there no need for artificial light.
“I’m sure Chouhanda has told you everything she knows, but you need to hear my side of the story.”
Ravi leant forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “We’re listening.”
“Rick and I worked together for many years. I knew he could be a boor, especially when he’d had a few drinks, but he was also extremely generous and good fun. We complemented each other’s personalities, or so I’d always thought.” He knitted his fingers together. “When the team-building away-days began, in the mid-nineties, I slipped comfortably into the role of being his unofficial guardian. When he drank too much, or mixed the booze with cocaine, I was there to moderate him. I stopped Rick bedding quite a few women back then. He had no self-control.”
“But the Marseille trip was different?”
“It was our first overseas weekend. Rick and the others were really pumped up for it. The drinking and pill-popping had started on the Friday night and continued until the day of the match.”
“Didn’t your boss mind?”
Mark grunted. “The whole idea of these exercises was for us to ‘let our hair down’. It was a reward for working every hour God sent. He didn’t know about the drugs, one of the traders always had a supply on his person. I never took anything, but Rick like to dabble.”
“What happened when the match was over?”
He shook his head sadly. “Most of my colleagues were steaming drunk. We headed out of the stadium, drifting towards the bright lights of the town. But in the heavy crowds, we became separated from our work party. Being less inebriated than the others, I gravitated towards Rick and stayed with him. That was the role I’d carved for myself, as Rick’s keeper.”
“This time, he wasn’t so easy to control.”
“No. He was wild. The atmosphere had carried him away with it. Rick was cheering and chanting with the victorious fans. At first, it was good natured. We met a nice group of lads from Manchester and shared a beer with them under the stars. Then the mood on the streets changed. Anyone who was sensible had returned to their hotels. But Rick couldn’t be persuaded. He was stalking the streets, pumped up for action, excitement.”
“Then you found it.”
“We passed a side street, leading off one of the main squares. A group of England supporters had gathered around two young Tunisian men. I saw that some of the supporters had swastikas tattooed on their arms. I could tell something nasty was about to happen. I glanced around, searching for a gendarme who might be patrolling the area, there had been plenty about earlier in the day. There was no one in sight.” Mark began wringing his hands. “Like a pack of dogs, they suddenly attacked. The poor lads didn’t stand a chance. I was frozen to the spot with shock. But Rick ran towards the fray. At first, I thought he was trying to help. To my horror, it was clear he was joining in. He was punching and kicking a defenceless man on the ground. I screamed at him to stop. He turned and looked at me, his pupils dilated and his expression wild. He called me a dirty coward, a pathetic excuse for a man. He said I didn’t know what it meant to defend the honour of your country.”
“There was no honour in what they did,” Dani added bitterly.
Mark glanced up and caught her eye. “But he was right about me being a coward. I was too shit scared to try and break it up. I was rooted to the spot with terror, frightened they might turn on me.”
“That’s understandable,” Ravi said.
“The thugs began to lose interest, a few took off along the dark, winding alleys when they realised what they’d done. That was when I found the gumption to move forward. Daran was trying to get up, so I helped him. Rick was still landing kicks on the body of the man on the ground. Daran launched at him. Rick shook off the move and fled into the darkness himself. He didn’t even give me a backward glance. Daran and I found ourselves alone with Batuhan. The man’s injuries were horrific. I made Daran stay with him whilst I ran to the nearest hotel to call an ambulance. I waited with them all night, whilst the medics did what they could. Then I made sure Daran had the money to get an earlier flight back to Tunis, and there was a hefty medical bill to pay.”
“Why did you give the Farhat family money? It wasn’t your responsibility to help them.”
Mark shook his head vigorously. “I felt it was. It was my job to control Rick and I’d failed. But it was also humanitarian. If you’d witnessed the brutal savagery I had that night, from people supposed to be your fellow citizens, believe me, you’d want to put it right.”
Dani could appreciate his point.
He sighed. “In those first few hours I thought there’d be a chance to prosecute. We gave the gendarmes in Marseille a statement. But we’d no idea who those other men were. I didn’t own a mobile phone in those days, let alone one with a camera. I hadn’t taken pictures, or a film at the scene.”
“Mrs Farhat said you wanted Daran to help you identify Richard to the police.”
“Initially, I thought that was the best course of action. I’d seen Rick participate in beating a man until he was brain dead. I was disgusted. On reflection, I knew Daran was right. We were the only witnesses. I was under the influence of alcohol and my testimony would b
e easily dismissed. Daran didn’t know who Rick was and couldn’t back up my identification. Rick would never have been prosecuted and I’d have lost my career, and any means of helping the Farhats in future.”
“So, you planned to deliver a different kind of justice to Richard McGill.”
Mark glanced nervously into the kitchen, clearly wondering if his family were in earshot. “It was a long time before we ever dreamed of killing him.”
Dani shook her head in disbelief. “How did you make that leap? You were clearly a good, decent man?”
Mark shrugged. “What I witnessed in Marseille changed me. I discovered that with the death of Batuhan, a toddler had been orphaned. Over the months and years, Daran and I became close friends. We corresponded regularly, and I went to Tabarka to visit. A year after the event, I met Anna and fell in love with her. I may not have settled down so quickly if I hadn’t seen how short and brutal life can be.”
“What about McGill? Wasn’t he worried you might tell the police about what he did? I’m amazed you remained such good friends afterwards.”
Mark looked surprised. “Oh, hadn’t you realised?”
Ravi creased his face in puzzlement. “Realised what?”
“Rick didn’t remember a thing about what happened. After fleeing the assault, he stumbled down to the beach and passed out on the sand, sleeping the sleep of the righteous until dawn. When I saw him again, back in Glasgow, I was dreading the confrontation we would have. Instead, I found Rick had been worried about me, concerned when I missed the flight. He recalled nothing from the drink we had with the lads from Manchester to the moment he woke up on the beach.”
“Did you believe him?”
“Yes, I did. To explain my anger with him, I said I was cross when he wouldn’t stop drinking and come back to the hotel, that I’d had enough of his excesses, particularly the drug taking. I told him I’d gone to a bar for a strong coffee, hooked up with a local girl and spent the night with her at her flat. We’d slept in and I missed the flight. It was the kind of excuse that made sense to Rick.”
“Then I don’t understand. Why did you harbour such a grudge against McGill when he’d been so far off his face he didn’t know what he was doing?”
“Because to me, it was the final insult. The cruel death of a young man, a new father, was not even worthy of registering in Rick’s selfish, self-indulgent little brain. From the moment I saw him again, my hatred grew. There was only one way to assuage it.”
Dani caught a movement in the corner of her eye. Anna Vogel was standing on the other side of the closed door, her palms resting on the panes of glass, her expression plaintive.
Ravi got to his feet. “Before you describe your scheme to murder Richard McGill, we will need to take you into the station. It’s time to put in that phone call to your brief.”
Dani brought a piece of paper out of her pocket. “Mark Vogel, I have a warrant to arrest you as an accessory to the murder of Richard McGill.”
As the DCI read the man his caution, Anna Vogel’s face drained of colour, she twisted away from the door and slid to the stone tiles, resting her head in her hands.
Chapter 38
“I really thought I’d never come back here.” Holly Kilpatrick had climbed out of the car and was observing the house from the other side of the road.
The cottage in the valley of the Westall Hills, which had once belonged to Richard McGill, had been given an upmarket refurbishment. A family now lived there and one of the barns had been converted into a luxury holiday let.
“It was when your ex-husband bought this place, that Mark and Daran Farhat decided it was time to put their plan into action.” Ravi moved to stand beside her.
Holly shook her head of fine auburn hair disconsolately. “We should never have moved to the cottage, it was a terrible mistake.”
“With Richard living out here, in such a remote location, Mark’s dream of taking revenge started to seem realistic.”
“But why chose a night when he and Anna were present? It was incredibly risky.” Holly folded her arms across her chest, as the wind picked up.
“Mark’s original plan was that he would hire professionals to do the job. Their hands would be clean of involvement. Before Mark joined the corporate banking world, he had trained in criminal law. He spent a few years at the bar before opting for a more lucrative career. But whilst he was still a brief, he’d successfully defended a particularly nasty Glasgow criminal, one who was experienced in bumping people off.”
“So, this man provided the gun and the getaway vehicle?”
“Yes, and his associates were primed to do the job themselves. Then, there was a complication. Daran wanted to pull the trigger himself. Mark Vogel had filled his young mind with thoughts of revenge for years. He’d become obsessed with getting justice for his brother. He could not be dissuaded.”
Holly sighed. “It was Daran Farhat who killed my husband.”
“Mark didn’t want anything to go wrong for Daran, so he made sure the murder was planned for the evening when he and Anna were at the cottage for dinner. They could guarantee Richard would be at home. It was Mark’s suggestion that Daran request the torch, which gave the young man time to aim his gun.”
“What about Anna? Was she involved? I just can’t imagine it! She genuinely cared for Tania and Boris.”
“Mark claims she had no idea. He made sure she remained in the kitchen after the shots came, so she wouldn’t have to see the body.”
Holly shuddered. “It was so calculated.”
“Mark followed you out to the hallway and checked outside, to make sure Daran had got away. Their criminal associates had orchestrated for their skip to be left on the driveway. The fake company had sent leaflets to Mike Ross’s business address, quoting crazily cheap prices. Daran was to dump the gun in there. If the police never found it, they would come back and retrieve it for future use. The removal of the skip wouldn’t be deemed suspicious. But after the point when Daran hid the gun, everything went wrong.”
“For a crime that went wrong, it took a very long time for us to solve it.”
Ravi couldn’t help but agree. It was one of his greatest regrets as a police officer. “The truth was that Daran was out of his depth. He’d barely been out of his hometown in Tunisia, now he was expected to find a pick-up point with the getaway van in the Highlands of Scotland on a pitch-black night.”
“He had genuinely needed the torch, to find his way back.”
“This is where the case in Cornwall diverged from this one. Bradley Wynne knew the countryside around the Trelawny’s bungalow like the back of his hand. The darkness was not a deterrent to him, it was his friend. He moved about in the blackness almost instinctively. For Daran, it was a different story.”
“He got lost.”
“He managed to reach the Cleland road by aiming towards the beams of the headlights of the occasional car that passed. When he reached the road itself, he decided to follow it to the nearest town, intending to call the getaway car from there on his mobile phone. He turned off the torch, so as not to be noticed if the police came that way.”
“It wasn’t a bad plan.”
“It would have worked fine, but when he reached one of the sharp bends in the road, a fast car rushed up behind him, careering towards a couple called Mr and Mrs Dunleavy, who were approaching in the opposite direction. They swerved to avoid the oncoming car and struck Daran with such force, he was thrown into the stone wall that ran alongside the road, landing in the field beyond.”
“How long do you think he was lying there?”
“He was probably unconscious for a short time. According to our station medic, when he woke, he may have felt quite well. Daran was able to call his accomplices in the getaway vehicle and tell them of his accident. He described his location as best he could and suggested he flash his torch when the van got near, to indicate his location. But when the van arrived on the Cleland Road, there was no flashing light. In fact, much lik
e myself and Tony Shorter, it took them some time to locate the crash site. When they did, what they discovered was a dead body.”
Holly sighed deeply. “It’s hard to know whether to feel relief or pity.”
“Daran Farhat had received a catastrophic blow to the head when he struck the stone wall. Our experts suggest he was suffering from a massive bleed on the brain which allowed him to function for up to an hour before it killed him.”
“What did they do with his body?”
“Mark doesn’t know. They wrapped Daran in the waterproof sheets they’d got ready for him to sit on in the van, then they disposed of his corpse that night. Mark assumes it was in one of the lochs, but the gang said it was best if he wasn’t told. They abandoned the van on one of the roads out of Cleland, presumably leaving in another vehicle. I suspect it was to lead us to think the murderer was local. The news of Daran’s death was devastating for Mark. He would have to go back to Chouhanda and tell her she’d lost her only remaining son. Layla would be without a guardian. The one thing the criminal gang did return to Mark was the torch, it was lying by Daran’s hand when they found him.”
“Why didn’t they throw it into the loch along with his body?”
“Perhaps they knew how much Daran meant to Vogel, that he would need something belonging to his friend from that night, a kind of memento from the killing. Or maybe they just worried it would float to shore and be identified as the torch taken from McGill’s cottage, prompting a search of the loch. Risking the discovery of the body.”
“Whichever way, Mark kept it. The torch became a kind of memorial to Daran.”
“Yes, I believe it was.” The light was beginning to fade. Ravi noticed that a spiral of smoke was snaking from the chimney of the house. He suggested they climb back into the car, before they got too chilled standing out in the exposed valley.
Dark Enough to See Page 16
