by Tana Collins
‘Sir,’ he said, ‘I need a word.’
‘I’m in a bit of a rush, Jim.’
Carruthers decided whatever his superior was in a rush about it was going to have to wait. ‘I’ve spoken to Andie. The girl in the mortuary’s not Marika Paju. I don’t know how the mix-up has occurred.’
Rushing or not, Bingham pulled up short. ‘Where does that leave the investigation?’
Where indeed, thought Carruthers.
‘You also had that anonymous phone call, didn’t you? Either Marika Paju’s the spit image of the dead girl or something else is going on. Have another word with the Estonian authorities?’ Bingham said.
‘Just left a message for them to call me. Do you remember meeting any Eastern Europeans at Barry Cuthbert’s party?’
Bingham pulled up short. ‘Eastern Europeans? What sort of Eastern Europeans?’
‘Estonians, Lithuanians, Russians?’ Carruthers tried hard to keep the impatience out of his voice.
‘No, no Eastern Europeans there. At least, not guests, anyway.’
‘You mean some of the staff were?’
‘I didn’t pay much attention. Some of the waiting staff may have been Polish. Honestly, I couldn’t tell you.’
‘What time did you leave the party?’
Bingham glanced at his watch. ‘Are all these questions necessary?’
‘I wouldn’t ask them if they weren’t,’ he said, feeling his hackles rising once again. ‘Roughly what time? It’s important.’
‘About ten-ish. Irene had a headache. We left early.’
‘How many of the guests were still there at that time?’ Carruthers followed Bingham into his office.
Bingham shook his head. ‘Party was in full flow. I was one of the first to leave.’ He tutted as he tried to wipe a stain off his suit with a handkerchief. He brandished his mobile, which he’d brought out of his pocket. ‘Now if you’re done with the interrogation I need to make a phone call. It’s important.’
Probably phoning his wife about taking the suit to the dry cleaner’s, Carruthers thought bitterly.
‘Jim, what time does the next brief start? I want to sit in.’
Carruthers was surprised. ‘Four.’
‘I’ll be there.’
10
‘OK, let’s have some quiet,’ said Carruthers. He looked at his watch. It was bang on four. He’d managed to put together a reasonable sketch with the police artist. He was happy about that. And the brief had started on time. ‘We’ve got a lot of ground to cover. First thing is that we’ve not been able to get a positive ID on the dead girl. It’s not Marika Paju so we’re back to square one. I want us to extend our door-to-door enquiries. Someone, somewhere must know who she is.’
He moved over to stand by the incident board. Put a new dot on the Fife map. ‘As you’ll all no doubt be aware there’s been a fourth robbery. Barry Cuthbert’s the latest victim. He’s in hospital. Interestingly, the MO is different in that the men broke into the house by ramming the French windows. This time the alarm wasn’t switched on downstairs as Barry Cuthbert was still awake. And clearly there was violence.’
‘I suppose they waited til all the guests had gone home,’ said Bingham. ‘Talk about bloody audacious.’
‘My concern,’ said Carruthers, ‘is Barry Cuthbert’s guest list. Or more precisely the people that attended who were not on his guest list.’
‘What is there to be concerned about, man?’ asked Bingham. ‘I was there and I knew pretty much everyone. Mostly local businessmen and members of the golf club.’
Carruthers’ eyes travelled down the piece of paper he was holding. ‘What about the guests who came later? After you left?’
‘What guests?’ asked Bingham.
‘The girls in the helicopter and the man with the ponytail.’
‘What on earth are you talking about?’ said Bingham. ‘And how on earth do you know who turned up after I left?’
‘Did you know Cuthbert has his own private helicopter?’ said Carruthers.
‘Well, yes, but–’
‘And you didn’t think to tell us? After all, you knew I’d put Andie onto finding out about all local flying clubs.’
‘A flying club’s a bit different to a man having a private helicopter.’
‘Is it?’ said Carruthers, starting to feel angry at Bingham’s blindness. ‘Are you saying aerial photographs of potential victims can’t be taken from a helicopter?’
Bingham stood up abruptly. ‘I would like to see you outside. Now.’
Carruthers followed Bingham outside. There was deathly hush in the meeting room.
As soon as the two men were outside the room and Bingham had frogmarched him some way down the corridor out of earshot of the incident room, Bingham turned on him. ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing, Carruthers? You’re undermining me at every turn. And in front of the team. I won’t stand for it. Do you hear? After the brief I want to see you in my office. That’s why you look bloody exhausted. It was you, wasn’t it, that climbed that bloody drainpipe? How else would you know who arrived after me? It all makes sense now. That’s why you’re limping. It was you who fell into the rhododendron.’
Bingham took a step forward. Drew himself up to his full height. All he got for his troubles was to look up Carruthers’ nose. ‘You are damned lucky they didn’t find your fingerprints everywhere. You bloody fool. What the hell were you doing there? I’ve got a good mind to bloody suspend you again. At the rate you’re going you’ll soon be back in uniform. This is your problem all over. You’re not a team player. You are nothing more than a lone vigilante.’ Bingham threw his hands up in disgust. ‘My office. As soon as the brief is over.’ With that he walked away.
Carruthers wondered if there was any truth in Bingham’s words. He knew he could be stubborn and headstrong but he still liked to think he was a team player. A memory came back to him. Of Fletcher saying pretty much the same thing to him on one of their previous big cases. The case that had got him suspended. Perhaps he wasn’t as much of a team player as he liked to think. Carruthers took a moment, drew a deep breath and re-entered the meeting. You could have heard a pin drop in the room.
‘Superintendent Bingham won’t be joining us for the rest of the brief.’ He caught Fletcher’s quizzical look. Hoped the whole station hadn’t heard the exchange. He wasn’t relishing the meeting with Bingham later. In the meantime, though, he had a job to do. ‘Now, where were we?’ he said, trying to ignore his pounding heart and feeling of impending doom.
Carruthers noticed a look between Fletcher and Watson before the former spoke. ‘Is it true what you said about a helicopter landing on Cuthbert’s estate?’ said Watson.
‘Yes, it’s true.’ With a sinking heart he said, ‘I suppose you all heard that exchange. Look, however I got that information, it’s out there now. And we need to focus on what we know. At 11pm a helicopter landed on Cuthbert’s estate carrying five passengers, four young women and one man. All sounded Eastern European.’
‘Have you asked Barry Cuthbert about them?’ asked Watson.
‘Yes and he’s denying everything. But he knows he’s in it up to his neck.’
‘What? In all of it?’ said Harris. ‘The dead immigrant – if that’s what she is; murdered gamekeeper and stolen artworks?’
‘It all ties in somehow. I’m sure of it,’ said Carruthers. ‘Just not sure how, yet. We need time to work this all out. Originally I was beginning to think Cuthbert was behind the robberies. After all, he knew all the victims through the golf club; had no doubt been in their homes for dinner parties; likes expensive art himself and has a criminal record for theft.’
‘And now?’ asked Fletcher. ‘Now that he’s become a victim himself?’
Carruthers ran his finger around the inside of his collar. ‘Part of me believes he may have faked the robbery to put us off the scent.’ His face furrowed. ‘But since I’ve seen him in hospital…’ He shook his head. ‘He took some beating. The fact
he was taken in unconscious and with a fractured cheekbone says it all.’ He shook his head. ‘And there was something else. He seemed scared. That’s not to say he’s not in on what’s been going on. My guess is he’s got greedy and they’ve taught him a lesson.’
‘Do you reckon he’s the middleman?’ said Watson. ‘He’s got the contacts. Perhaps he’s been passing the names to a higher paymaster. The Eastern Europeans, perhaps?’
Carruthers rubbed his chin. ‘Whoever got out of that helicopter was important.’ As he said this he realised he was admitting to the entire team that he was there with no official backing. It was too late now. Anyway, most likely there wasn’t a person in that room who hadn’t overheard the exchange between him and Bingham. ‘They were talking about an important guest arriving later. Who was the man with the ponytail and who were the girls in the helicopter?’
‘Prostitutes?’ said Fletcher.
‘It’s more than likely. We need to find the man in the ’copter. If he’s Eastern European we could be in big trouble. I mean, there’s no shortage of Eastern European girls living here in Scotland but if the man’s Estonian and running his prostitutes from Estonia… We could be looking at a whole different ball game. Anything from the importing of illegals to running a business in sex slaves.
‘Derek Sturrock was also seen arguing with Cuthbert at the party,’ continued Carruthers, ‘so I want us to chase that up. Find out what they were arguing about. Again, Cuthbert is denying the conversation ever took place. Says Sturrock wasn’t at the party. But back to the man with the ponytail. I’ve been working with a police artist to draw up a likeness…’ he admitted. ‘I got a pretty good look at him in the headlights of the ’copter.’
‘Any joy?’ said Watson.
‘Not yet. I’m going to send it off to the Estonian authorities as soon as I can touch base with them.’
‘That’s what that phone message was about that Dougie took, wasn’t it?’ said Watson.
Carruthers nodded.
‘So where do the artworks fit in?’ asked Watson.
Carruthers ran his hands through his hair. ‘Christ alone knows,’ he said.
‘Where do we go from here?’ asked Harris. Carruthers wanted to say that he wished he knew, but the team needed direction from a confident boss. He was already on thin ice. Had to show strong leadership in front of the rest of the team, prove he was a team player.
‘I’ll phone the Estonian police once I’m free.’ Would there be anyone senior at work on a Saturday?
He looked round the room at the expectant faces. His gaze settled on Harris. ‘Dougie, Cuthbert gave me a list of his guests.’ He handed over a copy. ‘I’ll run it past Bingham, make sure no one was missed. You grab a willing volunteer and interview all those guests, see what they have to say about anything they saw or heard.’
‘Including Mrs Bingham?’
Carruthers considered a moment. ‘She will have to be asked at some point, but maybe I’ll put someone else on that. One of us in trouble with the Super is enough.’
Harris looked relieved.
‘Gayle,’ said Carruthers, ‘you interview Derek Sturrock again.’
A short while later Carruthers put his head round Bingham’s door. As he did so he waved a sheaf of papers like a white flag. The forecasts. He’d also managed to contact the Tallinn Police and had sent off the police artist’s likeness of the man he saw getting out of the helicopter.
‘Come,’ said Bingham.
Looking over his glasses at Carruthers he took the papers off the younger man. Didn’t offer him a seat. ‘This situation is intolerable, Carruthers.’
Oh shit, calling me by my surname again. I’m in for a serious bollocking.
‘Ever since you were demoted back to inspector you’ve been overstepping the mark,’ said Bingham, scowling. ‘You’re still acting like a bloody DCI. I won’t have it.’ Bingham stood up and started pacing his office like a caged lion. Always a bad sign. He walked up to Carruthers. Looked him in the eye. ‘Of course, I blame myself. I never got another DCI in when I had the chance. You’re an excellent police officer in many ways. In fact you make a better DCI than DI. Your demotion was unfortunate but you only had yourself to blame. Throwing punches at fellow officers is not something I tolerate.’
Carruthers felt the injustice of it. Wanted to tell Bingham he had been goaded into the fight by McGhee, who’d been bragging about trying it on with Carruthers’ wife. What man would put up with that? Although to be fair, he could have chosen the venue of the fight with a bit more care.
‘I’ve made a decision,’ said Bingham, cracking his knuckles. ‘I’m getting a new DCI.’
Carruthers swallowed hard. Stared at his feet. Counted to five before looking Bingham in the eye. That’s why Bingham had been so keen to get the budget forecasts from him. He’d already decided to start actively looking for a DCI. Just needed to know if it was financially viable and he’d got Carruthers to do all the work. Carruthers had difficulty swallowing the bile. He realised he had missed part of the conversation.
‘Can’t keep a close enough eye on you myself. And to be frank, it’s not my job. You need a DCI to keep a closer rein on you. Anyway, that’s my decision.’
Carruthers remained silent.
‘Right, now we’ve got that out of the way. Sit down. I want to talk to you about the art theft cases.’
Carruthers remained standing.
‘I said sit!’
For once Carruthers did as he was told.
‘I’ve been thinking about the late guests arriving by helicopter. You’re sure about this?’
Carruthers nodded.
‘I have no idea who those people were,’ said Bingham. ‘I concede I may have been wrong about Cuthbert. I don’t like the thought that a bunch of Eastern European criminals may have been arriving under cover of darkness and right under my bloody nose, frankly. I want you to get to the bottom of who these people are.’
‘Already onto it, sir. I’ve been working with a police artist to draw up a likeness of the man. Feel sure I would know him again. I’ve sent it off to Estonia.’
‘Why send it to Estonia? The dead girl may not even be Estonian,’ said Bingham.
‘Well, we know that the tattoo on the girl’s ankle is the mark of an Estonian prostitution gang so it’s most likely she is Estonian. Or at least working as a prostitute for the Estonian gang. And to be honest, we don’t have that many other lines to follow. It’s unfortunate we’ve been given the wrong girl’s details.’ Carruthers still wanted to get to the bottom of that.
That seemed to satisfy Bingham. ‘OK, keep me posted on your progress. I mean it, Carruthers. I won’t have you going off not telling anyone what you’re doing. You’re part of a team. The problem is you keep forgetting that. Am I the last to know?’
‘Do you mean did I tell the others about staking out Cuthbert’s place? No, they didn’t know. I had a hunch. I didn’t want to bring it out into the open until I could prove it.’
Dismissed, Carruthers went back to his office. Switched on his computer. Just as it was booting up his phone rang.
‘Detective Inspector Jim Carruthers,’ he said.
The line wasn’t clear and the voice heavily accented. ‘Mikael Tamm of the Tallinn Police. I’ve been trying to get hold of you.’
‘Sorry about that. We’ve been in a team brief.’
‘I would like to email through the information we have on the man in your sketch.’
Carruthers put his ear closer to the phone. His heart was jumping. ‘So you do know him?’
‘I’m afraid so and it is bad news for you that he is currently in Scotland.’
Finding himself holding his breath, Carruthers gave Tamm his email address. Asked for the heads-up on the man before the information came through. However, he was also wary as they’d already given wrong information out about the dead girl.
‘He’s Aleks Voller. We think he’s Estonian Mafia.’
‘Oh Christ,’ sa
id Carruthers. So he had been right after all. Bingham would be sick to his stomach. And what would his now being at the same party as a member of the Estonian Mafia do for Bingham’s chances of promotion?
Carruthers tuned in to the fact the man was still talking. ‘Yes, you had better start praying, my friend. Are you sure it was this man you saw?’
Carruthers thought about it. It had been dark, he had got a sketchy view at best. And yet, he had drawn the profile of someone in the Estonian Mafia. Coincidence? He didn’t think so.
Carruthers’ words tumbled out. ‘What is the connection between the Estonian Mafia and this prostitution ring? And what on earth is the link with Scotland?’
‘It makes depressing statistics, I am afraid,’ said Tamm.
‘Then let me ask you a question,’ said Carruthers. ‘Have the Estonian Mafia got links with the art world? More specifically stolen works of art?’
‘One moment, please.’ Carruthers heard Tamm speaking with a colleague. His voice became sharp. Carruthers didn’t need to speak Estonian to know the exchange of conversation was terse.
‘I’m sorry about this, Inspector Carruthers.’
‘Jim, please.’
There was another short terse exchange away from the phone. ‘Jim, I’ll have to ring you back. I’ll pass on all the information I have. We’re working on something big at the moment. Things are tense. But I have a feeling that our work may be connected by the questions you are asking. That was my boss. He is, how would you say, rather a stickler. I need to head up a team brief then I have to leave the office for a while. There’s not enough hours… I may not be back in tonight. Can I call you first thing tomorrow morning? Shall we say ten am Estonian time?’
Carruthers tried to keep the frustration out of his voice. It didn’t seem to matter whether the police force was Estonian or Scottish. They all had the same issues; a strict, inflexible hierarchy, irritating bosses and too much work. Carruthers had a sudden image in his head of lots of mice on wheels, all speaking different languages.
