‘Has she been convicted of anything?’
‘Not even a parking ticket, but she is Jimmy Doherty’s daughter and he was killed by a police bullet in a firefight outside a bank years ago. She was six years old at the time, so she probably doesn’t remember him. But the associations with the uncles, aunts and cousins are still there. I will put it bluntly, Douglas, if you associate with Shona Doherty your career will have a very flat trajectory…in traffic.’ Nicola stood up and headed for the door. ‘Now, you get on with writing up the CCTV stuff. I must have a word with the DCI now.’
*****
DCI Caddell looked up as his office door opened and inwardly groaned when he saw the, I am on the warpath, look on Nicola Collins face. He knew something was up when he had entered the conference room and the talk had immediately ceased and Nicola had sat through the meeting with a face as if she had bitten into a red-hot chilli.
‘Hello Nicola, what can I do for you?’
She bypassed the pleasantries and launched straight in. ‘You have heard about DC Ashburner’s adventures on Saturday night?’
Caddell nodded slowly. ‘I did hear a bit of chatter in the canteen.’
‘I want whichever arsehole set him up sliced into little pieces by Professional Standards.’
Caddell tried to ignore the tension in his stomach and remain calm. ‘Isn’t that going a bit far Nicola, it sounds as if the lads were just having a bit of fun.’
‘I take it nobody has mentioned the girl’s name to you?’
Caddell felt his stomach sink even further. ‘No, I can’t recall any mention of a name.’
‘Shona Doherty.’
‘As in the Doherty clan?’ Caddell asked tentatively in the vague hope she wasn’t a member of the Doherty family of villains.
‘Yes.’
‘Oh shit!’
‘I told Ashburner, in words he could not possibly misunderstand, to stay away from her and what do I find? Someone set him up with her. It is almost certain to be a Honey Trap…and I want to know who in this building set him up with Tony Doherty’s niece!’
Caddell sat for several seconds while his mind churned through the options, keeping time with the lurching of his stomach. Finally his mind stopped churning. ‘Will you lay off Standards for a bit, while I make discreet inquiries?’
‘I’ll lay off for a day and keep him on a very short leash,’ Nicola said and paused with cocked her head on one side. ‘And you do know who Ashburner’s girlfriend is?’
Caddell felt his stomach give another lurch. ‘No.’
‘Susanne: Depute Fiscal and daughter of Judge Malcolm Glendinning and bosom pal of our own dear Chief Constable.’
Caddell put his head in his hands. ‘Fuck…fuck…and double fuck, why does this happen to me?’
Nicola stood up. ‘I will leave it with you today, sir, and revisit the matter tomorrow.’ She paused with her hand on the door handle. ‘I think you should also know that the Chief Constable had me up to the top floor for tea and a chat when Ashburner joined our merry band. He asked me, personally, to keep him on the straight and narrow. . His exact words, so Professional Standards are the least of this arsehole’s worries…Sir.’
When she had left the room DCI Caddell picked up the phone and dialled the number of the man who always had his ear to the ground in this station. If he wasn’t able to track down this arsehole then nobody could. ‘Detective Sergeant McCray, just the man; I have a wee job for you. Best you come to my office and I’ll fill you in about it.’
*****
Douglas looked up at the sound of footsteps behind him. Nicola paused by his desk and motioned for him to follow her. Inside she closed the door and motioned for him to sit, the circumstances of his other visit to the office this morning apparently forgotten. She sat and leaned across the desk towards him.
‘We have received a message from the spooky lot on the fourth floor about a missing student. They’ve picked up a whisper that suggests she has been abducted. But they can’t tell us where this whisper comes from – knowing that lot, one of them overheard it in the pub, while he was getting pissed. It’s the kidnapping of someone not very important and the perpetrators are not threatening to blow up anything, so they’re not interested and just dumped it on us.’
Nicola pushed a sheet of paper across the desk. ‘Leave the Blind Piper incident for the moment and see what you can find out about this supposedly missing student. The only thing we know so far is that nobody has actually reported her missing.’
Douglas looked down the sheet until he came to the name: Annabel Sutherland. ‘Where was she a student?’ He asked.
‘No idea, all they said was that it is to do with Glasgow, so they presume she lives in Glasgow. Start with the universities and work your way down the scale. She has a posh name so she could be at one of the better ones. Off you go and let me know when you get somewhere.’
He acknowledged her with a nod of his head and left the office. Returning to his desk he opened the bottom drawer of his desk. Taking out the Glasgow telephone directory he started thumbing through the book looking for Glasgow University and then he went down the University numbers until he found the one for admissions. He was prepared for a long argument, but once he had explained he was a policeman he was put through to someone called Heather Woods – who was clearly something big in the admissions department. He had explained that he was searching for a student by the name of Annabel Sutherland and that they were concerned for her safety. He emphasised that they merely wanted to speak to her and verify she was not in any danger. Did they have a student of that name at the University?
She phoned him back after checking there was a Detective Constable Douglas Ashburner. She clearly had bent over backwards to help him, she had all the information he needed: Annabel Candace Sutherland was a second year student at the University, studying Law. She gave him an address, but she also told him it was probably out of date.
To postpone answering the question about what to do next, Douglas wandered to the drinks machine. DC Julie Bryce was standing next to it talking in a low voice to Belinda – one of the secretaries. He did not know anything about apart from her name – in fact he had never seen her in this part of the building before. He pressed the button for black coffee and as the machine clunked and the cup clattered down into the dispenser, the two women looked round at him. He smiled. ‘Good morning.’
Belinda blushed and said nothing; Julie grinned. ‘Well hello, Detective Constable, is there something I can do for you?’
Douglas smiled again to hide his confusion. ‘Don’t think so at the moment. Everything is actually going quite well this morning.’ He picked up the full cup of coffee. ‘Must go, I have a distressed damsel to rescue.’
Julie smiled back at him. ‘I’m sure you have Douglas…catch you later.’ She turned and walked away towards the lift, with Belinda trotting after her.
He returned to his desk, put the cup onto a vacant space and sat down. He was about to pick up the phone when it rang. After his initial surprise he picked it up and said: ‘DC Ashburner.’
‘Hello, it’s Heather from the Admissions Office, I took the liberty of checking with Annabel’s tutor and he will enquire discreetly if she has missed any lectures over the past week.’
*****
On the fifth floor Nicola waited outside the Assistant Chief Constable’s office. She had combed her hair, smoothed down her jacket and checked her appearance in front of the large mirror in the posh loo next to the lift on the fifth floor. She rarely visited this floor and almost every time she did it was a stressful experience. This visit, however, she had half expected since this morning’s meeting. Gossip can travel fast when it is interesting and even faster when it is scandalous.
She looked over at the secretary. This one was new – she hadn’t morphed into a bad-tempered harridan yet. The name block on the desk gave her name as Belinda Williams.
Belinda looked up. ‘Sorry, he’s over-running on his meeting with
the finance director.’
Nicola looked at her, she was tall, slim, with a pretty face and dark auburn hair and she could be any age from twenty to twenty-five. Nicola also noted that she had an accent that definitely wasn’t Glaswegian – south Edinburgh perhaps.
Belinda interrupted her thoughts. ‘DI Collins, you can go in now.’
Nicola opened the door to the ACC’s office and entered, the over-generous size always surprised her and the contents could easily have fitted into an office half the size. But the man himself had the presence for a large office, tall and powerfully built and with the bearing of a man used to authority; his position did not weigh too heavily on him.
ACC McLennan gestured towards the chairs in front of his desk, his face serious. ‘Take a seat, Inspector.’
‘Sir,’ Nicola said once seated.
‘It has come to my notice that a journalist by the name of Tschederer is raking over the old Doherty business again.’ He waited for the implications of this to hit Nicola before he continued. ‘This journalist has a contract with an independent TV production company, who desire a one hour feature on the whole business. Unfortunately the journalist in question has a well earned reputation so we need to be on our guard against anyone saying anything out of turn that could rebound on the force.’
Nicola was relieved when Belinda entered with a tray of cups, saucers, teapot and a plate of biscuits. She relaxed slightly: tea and biscuits were never served when blood was to be spilt on the carpet. Belinda poured out the tea and added milk to the cups, stirred and placed the cups on the saucers and then moved them onto the desk. She wondered if Belinda practised this when the Chief was out of the office, as she performed the ceremony very smoothly for someone new to the job. Nicola sipped her tea and waited for ACC McLennan to continue, but he appeared to be in no hurry this afternoon.
Finally the ACC put his cup down. ‘Tschederer has a local contact by the name of John Buxton, one of Glasgow’s sleazier journalists. He has contacts within the MIU and this is not acceptable. I want reports on contacts with Tschederer or Buxton by any member of your team. Is that clear?’
‘Yes, sir,’ she replied well aware that John Buxton’s nickname of Johnny the Ferret was well earned and the prospect of even knowing about any contacts was small, but there were no points to be earned by telling the ACC that inconvenient fact.
*****
Douglas’ image of Heather Woods consisted of an identikit of all the university administrators he’d dealt with: Middle aged, small, overweight, short hair, with two point four children and a partner who’s something in the Council. Heather’s description did not fit any of his criteria: She was youngish, tall and slim, with long hair and without rings on her fingers. Her office was small and cluttered with a single chair positioned in front of her desk. She wore a plain white shirt and he saw what looked like blue jeans behind the desk when she stood up and held out her hand.
Douglas shook it – her handshake was warm and firm.
‘DC Douglas Ashburner,’ he said and produced his warrant card for her inspection.
She checked it carefully before speaking. ‘It’s good to see a normal policeman these days. We get ones in here who are very reluctant to say who they are or give you their number.’
‘Ah, I suppose they are checking up on the foreign ones.’
Heather raised her eyebrows in agreement.
‘It sounds as if you are used to discretion about these things.’
Heather nodded.
‘Well, the reluctant ones are too busy to check out this and they dropped it onto us. All I know is that there is some kind of threat to Annabel Sutherland from persons unknown. Nobody has reported her missing and none of the hospitals have reported any admissions under that name. Hopefully, all that I need to do is find her and verify that nothing has happened to her…I have no other interest in her.’
Heather nodded earnestly again. ‘The best place to start is her tutor – he should be available at three. I talked to him just before you arrived and he reported that she missed lectures this morning, in itself this is not unusual, but given your interest it is worrying. Could you be more specific about this threat?’
Douglas assessed her as a sane and practical person so he told her. ‘They were discussing her abduction.’
He saw her shiver as she said: ‘Oh dear…I’ll take you to her tutor.’
‘Please don’t mention the abduction business to anyone else just yet.’ Douglas said as he stood up, then he added: ‘There is no reason to think anyone else is at risk.’
Heather took him the long way round, or it seemed like that to Douglas, to the tutor’s office. The nameplate on the door had Dr Coult on it in gold lettering, unlike all the other doors they had passed. Heather knocked.
‘Come,’ a voice said loudly from inside the room and she opened the door to a larger book lined office, larger than Heather’s. Dr Coult looked up from the scatter of papers and magazines on his desk. He followed her into the room.
‘Detective Ashburner I take it, do sit down,’ he said before turning to Heather. ‘Are you staying Ms Woods?’
‘I will, if I may,’ Heather replied.
Dr Coult lent back and put his elbows on the arms of his chair and clasped his hands together at the same time to form an arch. ‘Yes, Annabel Sutherland, I am afraid that there is little I can add to what I discussed with Ms Woods on the telephone. She attended lectures on Friday and missed them today.’
‘What if she misses lectures tomorrow?’ Heather said.
‘Hmm,’ Dr Coult said and looked at Douglas.
‘I can check out her address, but it is the one from last year. It would be helpful if someone could ask her friends if they know her current address or telephone number,’ Douglas said.
Dr Coult smiled. ‘Could you advise Ms Woods if she no longer lives at her registered address. If she does not attend lectures tomorrow I will make enquiries among her classmates. And from the University’s perspective it is better if Ms Woods is the contact point.’
Douglas, sensing Dr Coult’s desire to end the meeting, interjected. ‘I assume you have met Annabel, what was your impression of her?’
‘Socially adept, moneyed, not a local accent or any accent for that matter, but lacking any real feeling for her subject,’ Dr Coult replied.
Douglas thanked them and headed back to his car, leaving Heather to discuss the new addition to her job description with the tutor.
*****
The address for Annabel Sutherland was a top floor flat in a brown Sandstone terrace near the University. A young man opened the door and looked at his suit. Douglas announced his name and rank. The young man didn’t show any surprise and asked to see his warrant card. In response to questioning the young man didn’t know anyone called Annabel Sutherland and the present occupants were all male. The previous occupants had all been male judging by the post and, no, he didn’t have a forwarding address for anyone. Douglas thanked him for his cooperation and trudged back down the flights of stairs. On the pavement he walked back towards his Vauxhall Astra, a relic of his student days. A silver haired man walked out of one of the tenements towards him and as he passed the battered car he scowled, stopping beside the Mercedes parked in front he looked at Douglas and a puzzled expression came over his face as Douglas opened the door of the Astra. He smiled, the signal his wreck of a car sent out was that its owner was not an organised, responsible, well heeled, citizen – just the vehicle for a surveillance operation.
*****
Nicola was re-reading a report, looking for mistakes the spell-checker had missed, when the phone rang. She glared at it. At this hour she should not be here at all, but her sense of duty overcame her desire to go home and she picked up the phone. ‘DI Collins.’
‘This is the control-room, we have a suspicious death and there is nobody else available right now, can you take it?’
‘Any more information?’
‘Yes, it’s an older man, repor
ted to be the victim of assault and taken to the Infirmary. Death has been confirmed.’
‘OK, I’ll take it. What’s the Doctor’s name?’
‘It’s a Doctor Lazelle.’
‘Right, I’ll get over there,’ Nicola said ending the call.
*****
The weekend rush over, the A&E department at the Infirmary was quiet. The receptionist glanced up and, evidently expecting her, pointed towards the double doors into the examination area. Nicola followed her gesture and found the examination bays deserted. She wandering along until she found a bay with the curtains drawn. She stepped through the curtains and approached the figure on the trolley, covered completely by a sheet – she pulled back the sheet far enough to see the face. She had been half expecting the sight and looking down at the wizened face, she wondered which film had been Wee Tam’s last.
Nicola replaced the sheet and walked out of the bay and along until she found a collection of nurses and doctors sitting drinking tea.
‘Dr Lazelle?’ Nicola asked.
A head of craned out of the mass of hospital blue and looked in Nicola’s direction.
‘DI Collins, I’m here about the suspicious death.’
Geraldine Lazelle stood up and accompanied her. ‘We don’t have an identity for the man yet.’ She said as she entered the bay. She pulled the sheet down revealing the body’s head and chest. ‘There is some bruising to the chest and this…’
‘Thomas Goslin,’ Nicola interrupted.
‘What?’
‘The man’s name is Thomas Goslin, or Wee Tam, and this is now a murder investigation,’ Nicola said.
‘Without a post-mortem?’
‘Dr Lazelle, have you pronounced death?’
Geraldine Lazalle looked askance at her. ‘Yes, but…’
‘Thank you Dr Lazelle, now I need all his clothing and personal effects…and the names of the ambulance crew who picked him up. I assume your report will be on the Fiscal’s desk within the time limit?’
Shallow Water Page 5
