Murder at Flood Tide

by Robert McNeill

  ‘With respect, sir, DI Reilly thinks DCI Naismith may not have represented the exchange between him and DI Knox exactly as it occurred,’ Laidlaw said. ‘The DCI only heard the conversation. He didn’t see the interaction between DI Knox and himself. The DCI was in, ahem, a toilet cubicle at the time.’

  ‘I’m aware of that. Go on,’ Mullin said.

  ‘DI Knox confronted DI Reilly and acted aggressively towards him. DI Reilly was at pains to point out that he had only been doing his duty in reporting DC Mason.’

  ‘Is DI Reilly telling us he didn’t say DI Mason was weaving all over the road?’ Mullin said. ‘We have a recording of the 999 call.’

  ‘No, sir, he isn’t. He insists that at one point she was driving in such a manner.’

  Mullin motioned to Reilly. ‘And just how did he come to be at Holyrood Park Road when DC Mason left DI Knox’s flat? He was registered at the Crowne Plaza Hotel on Royal Terrace. That’s a good four miles distant, is it not?’

  ‘Yes, sir, it is,’ Laidlaw said. ‘The reason for DI Reilly being there is that he had overheard DI Knox talking to his partner, DS Fulton a day or two earlier. They were discussing keeping fit. He heard Knox tell Fulton about his morning jog from Holyrood Park Road. It starts at the eastern end of Hunter’s bog, a long valley behind Salisbury Crags, then completes a circuit that takes in the ruin of St Anthony’s Chapel overlooking St Margaret’s Loch. From there, it joins the Radical Road, a cliffside path that winds back to the start point. The route affords a panoramic view of the city.

  ‘DI Reilly also liked to keep fit and thought it a good idea. In fact, he had completed the run and was getting back into his car in Holyrood Park Road when he saw DC Mason’s Mini.’

  Mullin glanced at Mason. ‘DC Mason,’ he said, ‘is there a possibility that DI Reilly may have gone back to his car after such a run on 13 August?’ He waved in her direction. ‘You may address the Chair.’

  Mason shook her head. ‘No, sir. It is my belief that DI Reilly deliberately chose to be there that morning. I don’t think he’d undertaken the run.’

  ‘I see,’ Mullin said. ‘Please tell us why.’

  ‘Thank you, sir,’ Mason said. ‘On Sunday, 12 August, we had almost completed our shift and were all assembled in the MI room at Gayfield Square. I was in the process of moving a bag of shopping near my desk when DS McCann, who was seated alongside me, saw it contained two bottles of spirits. She commented in a joking fashion, and I explained I was taking them to DI Knox’s flat that evening. It was his birthday on Monday. I told her we intended to have a celebratory drink.

  ‘When I moved the bag, DI Reilly, who was sitting at an adjacent desk, heard the clink of glass. I believe he followed me to DI Knox’s flat on Sunday evening and returned on Monday with the intention of making the call. He guessed I might be on or near the limit, and of course he was right.’

  ‘Hmm,’ Mullin said, then glanced at Reilly. ‘DI Reilly, I’m concerned about the mobile phone you used to make the call – how do you explain that?’

  ‘DI Reilly–’ Laidlaw said.

  Mullin waved the DCI into silence. ‘No, DCI Laidlaw, I want to hear from DI Reilly himself. He may address the Chair.’

  Reilly shuffled in his seat, gave Mullin a disconcerted look, then said, ‘I don’t deny I had the phone, sir,’ he said. ‘When I got back in the car after my run, I saw DC Mason leave East Parkside and begin driving erratically. I was wearing jogging gear and had left my smartphone in my suit pocket back at the hotel. It was then I remembered the phone in the glovebox.’

  Mullin shook his head. ‘You’re aware confiscated items should be handed in when an operation is ended?’

  ‘Yes, sir. I’m sorry. I’d forgotten.’

  Mullin studied Reilly for a long moment, then said, ‘Yet you boasted of its existence when you spoke to DI Knox. That it was, quote, “Virtually untraceable”.’

  ‘I’m sorry, sir,’ Reilly said. ‘I was reacting to the threatening way in which DI Knox had confronted me.’

  ‘And your derogatory comments about DCI Naismith? That he was wrong in assigning the Fairbairn murder case to Knox? That it was your belief that you were more qualified to lead the investigation? You also disagreed with his policy on how officers address one another?’

  ‘I was expressing an opinion to DI Knox,’ Reilly said. ‘I don’t want to sound arrogant, sir, but I could have led the Longniddry murder inquiry, and done so efficiently. I think my homicide clear-up record for this year alone reflects that.’ He paused for a moment and added, ‘With respect to DCI Naismith, I think there was an element of favouritism in DI Knox’s appointment.’

  ‘Really?’ Mullin said. ‘And how do you arrive at that conclusion?’

  ‘At the start of the investigation, I interviewed Ms Shona Kirkbride, the girl who was with Ms Fairbairn on the night of her murder,’ Reilly replied. ‘She told me the man with the murder suspect was a Mr Joe Turner. As I had elicited this information, I felt I should be the one to see Turner in the subsequent interview. But DCI Naismith passed me over in favour of DI Knox.’

  Mullin looked over at Forsyth. ‘Is that recorded in DCI Naismith’s report?’

  Forsyth took a moment to riffle through Naismith’s file, then shook his head. ‘No, sir. It doesn’t appear to be.’

  Mullin gestured to Naismith. ‘DCI Naismith,’ he said. ‘Why did you assign the Fairbairn murder case to DI Knox?’

  The DCI looked at Reilly. ‘Certainly not because of any favouritism, sir. I explained at the outset I thought both DI Reilly and DI Knox were equally qualified to lead the investigation. I didn’t discount DI Reilly’s abilities. However, DI Knox had the advantage of local knowledge, and I believed that would be key to solving the case. I still do.’

  ‘And DI Reilly’s specific claim that he was passed over when you gave the Turner interview to DI Knox?’

  ‘I was at pains to point out to him that we were working as a team.’ Naismith shook his head. ‘If you’ll forgive me, sir. I think when I made the decision to appoint DI Knox as lead investigator, DI Reilly ceased to be a team player.’

  ‘Hmm.’ Mullin gave Reilly a withering look. ‘Which leaves us, DI Reilly, with your comment that you felt DCI Naismith’s attitude to discipline was lacking. You told DI Knox you believed officers calling each other by their Christian names was wrong?’

  ‘Yes, sir. I think discipline is one of the most important elements in policing. I was trained to respect rank, and feel the best results in man-management are achieved by maintaining this formality. I would quote the old saying, “familiarity breeds contempt”. I think DCI Naismith’s approach can only lead to a breakdown in discipline,’ Reilly said.

  Mullin glanced at the senior officers seated with him. ‘Do other members of the panel have questions for the appellant or other officers in the case?’

  Ramsey and McCrone shook their heads, then Mullin closed the file. ‘Very well,’ he said, ‘myself and other members of this panel will now deliberate. Both parties will have our decision within forty-eight hours. This tribunal is closed. You may go.’

  Chapter Nineteen

  The Eurowings Airbus A320 banked and held to the south shoreline of the Forth estuary as it made its approach to Edinburgh Airport. The aircraft had departed Stuttgart at 06.50 and was on schedule for its stated arrival time of 1050 hours.

  Lena Weber and Imke Fischer, two of the aircraft’s 178 passengers, exchanged glances as the plane swooped low and the girls spotted the first of the three bridges spanning the river.

  ‘Look!’ Fischer said. ‘The Forth Rail Bridge.’

  Weber smiled. ‘I can see the other two also,’ she said. ‘The weather is so nice here today.’

  Fischer grimaced. ‘Unlike our visit last year,’ she said. ‘It rained on the first three days.’

  Her petite blonde companion nodded. The two had first visited Scotland the previous year, having fallen in love with the country after seeing Outlander on German television.
The series was broadcast on the RTL Passion network and had been a nationwide hit. Like many of their countrymen, Weber and Fischer were captivated by the tale of a post-World War II English nurse who had travelled back in time to eighteenth-century Scotland.

  On their last trip, the girls had visited Glencoe, Kinloch Rannoch and Doune Castle, where many of the first episodes of the series had been filmed. As staunch fans, this time the girls planned to visit locations in Edinburgh and southern Scotland, beginning with Drumlanrig Castle in Dumfries and Galloway.

  Although they’d saved for their five-day break, their budget was limited, so the pair decided to ease their finances by staying in a youth hostel in central Edinburgh, and to hitch-hike whenever possible.

  After their plane landed, the girls caught an express coach to Waverley Bridge, then walked the short distance via Princes Street and North Bridge to their hostel in Niddry Street. Soon they had booked in, taken lunch in the hostel canteen, then walked to nearby South Bridge and boarded a 47 bus.

  They arrived in Penicuik shortly after 2pm, crossed John Street to the A766 Carlops Road and extended their thumbs. They had only a short wait before an articulated lorry drew to a halt. The girls caught up with the vehicle and Weber opened the cab door.

  The driver leaned over and said, ‘Where’re you headed, ladies?’

  ‘Thornhill,’ Weber said. ‘It’s near the A76.’

  The driver nodded. ‘I can take you as far as Abington, where the B797 branches off. It connects with the A76 twenty or so miles farther on. It’s likely someone’ll give you a lift from there.’

  Fischer, a hazel-eyed brunette in her late teens, smiled. ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘That is very kind.’

  The girls clambered into the cab carrying lightweight rucksacks. Any unnecessary gear had been left at the hostel, exchanged for packets of sandwiches and bottles of mineral water.

  The driver, a grey-haired man in his early fifties, put the vehicle in gear and moved off. ‘So,’ he said, ‘why are you headed to Thornhill?’

  ‘We are going to Drumlanrig Castle,’ Fischer said. ‘You have heard of it?’

  The driver shook his head. ‘Can’t say I have. Bit off the beaten track?’

  Fischer gave him a mystified look. ‘Sorry,’ she said, ‘my English is not so good. I do not understand “off the beaten track”.’

  The driver grinned. ‘It’s a saying,’ he explained. ‘Off a side road, perhaps. Somewhere not too well known.’

  Fischer nodded. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I am thinking so. Maybe it is not well known.’

  ‘It is a beautiful castle where part of Outlander was filmed. It features in an episode called “Vengeance is mine”,’ Weber said.

  The driver gave a comprehending nod. ‘Ah,’ he said. ‘I see, Outlander. The television series based on the books by Diana Gabaldon. My wife and daughter are fans. They’ve seen all the shows. My wife’s read all the books, too.’

  ‘Yes,’ Weber said. ‘We are fans also.’

  ‘The programme’s popular in Germany? I take it that’s where you’re from?’

  ‘Yes,’ Fischer said. ‘The programme is very popular in Germany. And we’re from Wangen. It is a district of Stuttgart.’

  ‘Stuttgart? That’s southern Germany, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes,’ Weber said. ‘Baden-Württemberg, south east. You have visited?’

  The driver shook his head. ‘No,’ he said. ‘My wife, my daughter and I have been to Switzerland, though. Interlaken.’

  ‘Ah, yes,’ Fischer said. ‘That is not so far from us.’

  ‘So, what do you girls do in Stuttgart?’

  ‘You mean work?’ Fischer replied.

  The driver nodded. ‘Yes.’

  Fischer shrugged. ‘We’re part of the sales staff in a department store called Müller.’

  The driver smiled. ‘Nice to get away for a wee while, eh?’

  Both girls laughed, then Fischer said, ‘Yes, very nice.’

  * * *

  ‘Smeaton told us a complete pack of lies,’ Fulton was saying. He and Knox were on the outskirts of St Andrews, heading back to Edinburgh.

  ‘What worries me is the gun used to kill McGeevor,’ Knox replied. ‘Smeaton’s ex-para. I’m positive the weapon’s his.’

  ‘They’ve got to be in cahoots,’ Fulton said. ‘If that’s where he got the gun.’

  Knox nodded, then keyed a number into his mobile’s hands-free unit. A dialling tone came through the car’s speakers and there was a brief clicking sound, then Hathaway answered: ‘Hi, boss.’

  ‘Mark,’ Knox said. ‘We’ve interviewed the Grants at St Andrews. Gaffney’s real name is Russell.’

  ‘Russell… he’s the killer?’

  ‘Yes,’ Knox replied. ‘We need to arrest him and his brother, Ryan. But here’s the thing: I’m convinced the weapon used to kill McGeevor is Smeaton’s. Glock 17s are issued to UK special forces, and he’s ex-para. For that reason, I want you to proceed with caution. Take Yvonne with you and collar Russell, and ask Arlene and Gary to go for his brother. First, though, I want you to contact Armed Response. Have an ARV unit precede each arrest, just in case. Understand?’

  ‘Yes, boss.’

  ‘And Mark?’

  ‘Aye, boss?’

  ‘Update DCI Naismith, will you?’

  ‘Yes, boss.’

  Knox ended the call, and a moment later the phone rang. Knox keyed accept and DI Murray’s voice came through the speakers. They crackled, the signal breaking up.

  ‘Jack?’ he said.

  ‘Aye, Ed,’ Knox replied. ‘It’s not a great connection, but carry on. I can hear you.’

  ‘It’s Fairbairn’s blouse,’ Murray said. ‘The DNA results are in.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘A single hair was found on the garment. It came from a dog. Most likely an Alsatian.’

  * * *

  Knox and Fulton were crossing the Forth when his phone rang again. This time the caller was McCann, who told him Smeaton had been arrested without incident at Livingston. An ARV team were the first to arrive, but had not been required. Smeaton wasn’t armed.

  ‘They carried out a search of the house,’ McCann told him. ‘But no weapon was found.’

  ‘Fine, Arlene,’ Knox said. ‘Where are you now?’

  ‘Driving through Corstorphine,’ McCann replied. ‘Ten minutes from the nick. Smeaton’s in the wagon behind us.’

  ‘Has Mark been in touch?’

  ‘Not yet. Last I heard he and Yvonne were parked up near Russell’s office, waiting for another ARV team. HQ sent the first lot ahead of us, since you suspected the gun was Smeaton’s.’

  ‘Okay, Arlene, thanks,’ Knox said. ‘Bill and I are at South Queensferry. We’ll see you at Gayfield Square in around twenty minutes.’

  Chapter Twenty

  When Hathaway relayed Knox’s message to Naismith, the DCI contacted Gartcosh and asked to be put through to the Armed Response Control Unit. His call was taken by the duty officer, Superintendent Sean Grainger, who immediately despatched a stand-by team to Livingston, working on the premise that Smeaton was most likely to have the pistol.

  Grainger told Naismith to instruct Hathaway to drive to Merchiston, but to keep Russell’s premises under surveillance. No approach was to be made until the ARV team arrived. He advised Naismith that the second unit was being diverted from Shotts in west central Scotland.

  Hathaway had followed this instruction, and he and Mason were parked at the foot of Merchiston Court awaiting the armed officers.

  ‘Forty minutes now,’ Hathaway said, glancing at his watch. He nodded to the door of Bluebird’s premises, a short distance away. ‘It’s quiet,’ he continued. ‘I could take a wee wander up, make sure Russell’s in his office.’

  Mason gave him a determined look. ‘You’ll stay in the car,’ she said firmly. ‘You heard Naismith. They sent the first team to Livingston. Our lot should be here any minute.’

  Hathaway shrugged. ‘I just get peed
off doing nothing, that’s all.’

  ‘Knox told you. We can’t be sure which of the brothers has the weapon. You could get shot.’ Mason shook her head. ‘We’ll wait until the ARV gets here. They’ll handle it.’

  Mason had just finished speaking when a black Range Rover turned into the street and stopped behind them. The driver’s door opened and a burly-looking man in a dark uniform exited. He wore a peaked cap with a chequered band, and the epaulettes on his shoulders bore three chevrons.

  Hathaway wound down his window as he approached.

  ‘DC Hathaway and DC Mason?’ the man inquired.

  Hathaway nodded.

  ‘I’m Sergeant Gordon Taylor, Armed Response. Where’s number eleven? Russell’s office?’

  Hathaway motioned to the other end of the street. ‘Three doors from the top on the left,’ he said. ‘We haven’t seen any movement in the forty-five minutes we’ve been here.’

  Taylor nodded. ‘Okay. Here’s how we’re going to play it.’ The sergeant pointed to the Bluebird Parcel Services office. ‘We’ll take the ARV and stop almost opposite the door. Our strategy will be to keep the entrance in view while using the vehicle for cover. You and DC Mason stay here until we give the all-clear – is that understood?’

  ‘Yes,’ Hathaway said.

  Taylor got back into the Range Rover, reversed, then drove along the street and halted just short of the Bluebird office’s entrance. He and his crew exited, went to the rear and took out their weapons – Heckler and Koch MP7 submachine pistols – then Taylor stood close to the Range Rover’s offside wing and switched on a loudhailer.

  The detectives heard Taylor’s amplified voice call out: ‘Russell! Armed police! Come to the door. Keep your hands in view.’

  A long moment of silence followed, then Taylor repeated the order. Seeing no movement inside the premises, Taylor shouted a command, then he and two officers ran across the street and flanked the entrance. The fourth went to the rear of the Range Rover and took out a red-painted battering ram. Taylor and the others moved out from their positions and covered their colleague, who took only seconds to force open the door.