She arched her eyebrows.
‘Me male, you female, for this to work I lead, you follow.’
‘You’re getting the point of this exercise; you be the man and lead.’
He stepped forward and she followed.
‘You have done this before, that’s good.’ They slowly danced backwards and forwards across the room.
‘You know this dance?’
‘We didn’t get to the fancy stuff during the dancing class, but our teacher was from Brazil – you know: thin, black hair, incredibly supple.’
‘Did you know her well?’
‘Hmm, not in the way I think you’re implying.’
‘We can go dancing, there is café in the city with a space for dancing and they can be persuaded to play tango music.’
*****
Douglas inspected the contents of the freezer: a half-empty packet of chicken pieces, a large Naan, a packet of peas, a small pizza and a packet of Venison sausages. He shut the freezer door and opened the fridge door – the situation wasn’t much better: a sliver of cheese, two bottles of white wine, a carton of milk and four assorted squeezy bottles of sauce. He walked through to the bathroom and opened the door far enough to get his head through. ‘There isn’t much to eat in the fridge?’
Susanne put her head out of the shower. ‘What?’
Before he could repeat the question they heard the sound of the telephone.
‘Get that will you?’ Susanne said and her head disappeared back into the shower.
He walked through to answer the telephone. ‘Glendinning or Ashburner?’
‘Douglas, so nice to hear your voice.’
Douglas had a feeling of panic: God, it’s Susanne’s mother, what does she want? ‘Yes, Jacqueline, it’s been a while since we last talked. How are you?’
‘I’m preparing for this weekend. Susanne told me you are coming, Douglas, I trust this hasn’t changed.’
‘I’ll do my best.’
‘Good, I’ve been feeling we need to have a talk. Now, where is my daughter?’
‘She’s in the shower.’
‘That’s not very considerate of her, keeping you waiting while she gets ready.’
‘Not a problem, we’re staying in this evening if I can find something in the freezer to cook.’
‘Sounds very domestic, Douglas.’
‘Nothing wrong with that, Jacqueline,’ Douglas said as he heard the bathroom door open. ‘She’s here now,’ he said and passed the phone over to Susanne. ‘It’s your mother.’
‘Mother dearest…’
Douglas left them to talk and went to have a shower. He finished dressing and half an hour later he returned to the living room to find Susanne still on the phone. She looked up from the sofa.
‘Douglas is out of the shower now. I have to get dressed or we will starve this evening.’
He couldn’t hear Jacqueline’s end of the conversation, but Susanne cut her mother off. ‘Yes, I know, mother…goodbye.’ She put the phone down, breathed deeply and exhaled slowly. ‘Typical, she’s been urging me to get together with you and make a commitment, but when I go ahead and do it, she gets uppity about my methods.’
Douglas considered this statement before venturing a reply. ‘Was she hoping for an engagement party?’
‘Not explicitly, but she is prepared to accept a moving in together party as a substitute, she wants to discuss it this weekend. So, you have to be there, come hell or high water.’
‘Go and get dressed, I’m starving.’
Chapter 7
Thursday
Donald, or Don as he was usually called, liked his early morning run in the quiet of the deserted city. He ran swiftly – his route took him over the old Orion Railway Bridge, then along the south bank of the Clyde to the footbridge opposite the supermarket where he crossed back over to the north bank of the river. He was running easily and into his second wind as he passed the end of the old bridge, next to the footbridge, he noticed the log floating in the bend of the river; he took no real notice of it, just adding it to his memory of the ever-changing waterscape of the river. A mile nearer the sea, doubts about the shape of the log were niggling at the back of his mind and wouldn’t go away. He stopped and agonised over the idea that it wasn’t wood floating in the river. Finally he retraced his steps along the river and walked out onto the old bridge to get a good look at the log. The sun was higher in the sky and even in the stronger light the body floating face down just under the surface of the water bore more than a passing resemblance to a log. He studied the object caught between the shallows on the south side the riverbank and a reef of shingle. As he watched it the object rolled slightly and something resembling an arm appeared – the log rolled back the other way and on the other side another arm appeared briefly. He calmly retrieved his mobile phone and made the 999 call. After explaining there might be a body in the Clyde and giving his location, he walked back to the disused road bridge and waited.
Eventually a police car appeared at the southern end of the bridge opposite the supermarket. Two young policemen got out of the car and walked slowly towards him past the blocks preventing vehicle access to the bridge. There was no rush at this hour of the morning and no bystanders to interfere with the proceedings. He waved to them to indicate he was the one who’d reported the problem.
Assessing him as middle aged and middle class the policemen were polite: ‘Are you the gentleman who reported a body in the river?’ the tall one said.
‘I said it might be a body. It’s on the opposite side of the river from the path and it looks like a log at a distance, but I’m fairly sure I saw arms as it moved in the water.’ Don emphasised the might in order to mitigate any annoyance the policemen might feel if the thing in the river was not decaying flesh and bone. He walked down the riverbank until the thing was clearly visible on the far side of the river. ‘It’s right under the bank and difficult to get close to…’ Don was saved from justifying himself any further when the body rolled in the current and what could be a pair of buttocks appeared briefly above the surface.
The taller of the two policemen spoke into his radio to call for assistance from the underwater search team and then he turned to the man. ‘If you have some ID, sir, there wouldn’t be any need keep you any longer.’
Don produced his driving licence.
The shorter of the two policemen noted his name, address and the licence number and then returned it to him. ‘Thank you for your assistance, sir, we’ll be in touch later to take a statement.’
Don smiled. ‘No problem, I work from home, so any time is OK. Sorry to ruin your morning.’
‘All part of the job, sir.’
Don nodded to them, then turned back towards the old bridge and jogged away.
The shorter of the two policemen stopped watching the man as he disappeared from sight and turned to look at the body across the river. A thought crossed his mind: ‘If he’s a jumper, why is he naked?’
The taller policeman contemplated this concept for a moment. ‘He’s not a jumper then. Somebody chucked him in…did you have big breakfast this morning?’
‘Na, tea and a slice of toast.’
‘Lucky bugger, I had the Full Monty.’
‘Why does that matter?’
‘The Crime Scene Manager throws a right wobbly if you puke all over his locus.’
*****
The CSM did throw a wobbly and shouted: ‘If you are going to throw up your bloody breakfast, throw it downstream of the body and not upstream of it.’
His partner was about to point out that the man probably had been defaced by the propeller of a boat when he realised that this far upstream it was very unlikely anything more than a rowing boat would be on the water. The corpse had no face because someone had smashed it with a heavy metal object. The tall policeman could tell it was a metal object from the sharp dents in the exposed skull. He had nightmares about that face for months afterwards.
Susanne Glendinning glanced at
the policeman heaving the last contents of his stomach into the river. ‘Shouldn’t he be doing that downstream?’ she said.
The CSM nodded and scowled.
‘Where’s the SIO?’ she asked.
The CSM checked her ID before pointing along the riverbank. ‘He went that way five minutes ago.’ Susanne nodded a thank you and stepped carefully along the bank, wishing she had changed her high heels for a pair of sturdy flat shoes and her skirt, which was too tight for this sort of thing, for trousers. She stopped outside the taped off area around the body lying on a tarpaulin laid over the long grass on the riverbank. The SIO eventually looked in her direction and arched his eyebrows in an unspoken question: how the hell did you get past the cordon?’
‘They dropped this one on me at short notice – Senior Depute Susanne Glendinning,’ she said, by way of explanation for her clothing.
‘DI John McFarlane, I’m Senior Investigating Officer for the moment.’
‘For the moment?’
‘My guess is that he was tortured using a blowlamp, or something like that and then they smashed his face in; also his fingers have been burned, so no fingerprints. The doctor couldn’t say what injuries are pre and which are post-mortem.’
‘So not a suicide?’
‘No, the Major Incident Unit will probably be taking over this one, but I’ll carry on for the present.’
Susanne gave him a thin smile. ‘All the usual actions in place?’
McFarlane inclined his head in affirmation. ‘Uniform are doing a door-to-door but as you can see there aren’t many doors.’ He waved his arm to indicate the backs on the warehouses on either side of the river. ‘We’ll ask the staff of the Supermarket, in case any of them saw anyone suspicious on one of the bridges.’
‘CCTV?’
‘No direct coverage, we’ll retrieve the Video from the Supermarket in case they called in there afterwards or used the car-park while they had a look-see beforehand.’
‘Will you put out a description of the body?’
‘There are no tattoos or other distinguishing marks, so it’ll be vague, but you never know, we might be lucky.’
Susanne’s discussion with McFarlane was interrupted by a tall figure striding noisily along the riverbank. Professor Gatward stopped and recoiled slightly when he recognised Susanne. ‘I certainly didn’t expect to see you this morning.’
‘I could say the same about you, Professor,’ she replied.
‘I prefer to be up and about doing things on a fine morning like this…I would have expected to see a senior member of the Fiscal’s entourage to take on a juicy murder like this.’
‘Exactly, Professor.’
The professor regarded her for a moment before Susanne saw the light go on in his eyes and he guffawed: ‘Of course, another promotion up the greasy pole. Congratulations, my dear.’
*****
‘This is a murder; this man didn’t smash his face in and then jump into the river. Why should the PM have to wait until tomorrow?’ McFarlane argued.
‘Do not blame our department. It’s the Fiscal, his penny pinching is the problem,’ Professor Gatward said and turned towards Susanne. ‘Don’t take this personally, but his decision to centralise all the PMs on suspicious deaths has resulted in an enormous backlog. Tomorrow morning is pretty quick in the present circumstances.’
Susanne felt sympathy for McFarlane’s stand, but, at the end of the day, pissing off Professor Gatward wasn’t going to help anyone. ‘Professor, can I ask what the actual problem is?’
The Professor drew himself up to his full height and breathed deeply. ‘Space.’
Susanne looked puzzled.
‘Space for the bodies,’ the Professor added. ‘We have to move one out, before we move the next one in and long term storage for this gentlemen is another problem,’ he said pointing at the mutilated body lying on the tarpaulin.
*****
All the chairs were taken in the packed conference room and Douglas had to stand at the back. The DCI was late and the noise of the bored crowd was deafening, everyone was talking louder to make themselves heard above the noise. He shifted from foot to foot occasionally and waited for something to happen. The boredom was broken when he felt someone press her breasts against his back. He guessed it was Julie Bryce. He could feel her breath on his neck.
‘How is little Shona these days? I hear she’s been pursuing a dancing career,’ she whispered closed to his ear.
‘Not so little,’ Douglas replied.
‘What was the description: 36D if not 36DD in a gold Spandex dress – do you think I should get one of those.’
‘I don’t know Julie…how do you know her?’
‘I was at school with her…I’m not quite 36D, I’m more a 35C, but I think they would look good in a Spandex dress. Do you want to see?’
‘Alright Julie, just tell me more about her.’
‘OK, how about lunchtime?’
Before Douglas could reply Superintendent Willis and DCI Caddell entered the room followed a couple of seconds later by Nicola. Willis and Caddell sat down on the vacant seats at the front, while Nicola remained standing. She started. ‘The MisPer is a student at the University by the name of Annabel Sutherland. Two males abducted her at 23:44 on Sunday last from the car park of her apartment block. Please run the video.’
Douglas saw a short sequence from the surveillance camera looking out at the car park. The girl walked towards her car and the doors of the van flew open. Two men jump out, grab hold of her, subdue her and carry her into the back of the van. One man remained in the back of the van and the other climbed out, closed the rear doors and disappeared round the side of the van away from the camera. Thirty-five seconds later the van moved forward and disappeared out of frame.
Nicola continued. ‘The video was obtained from a co-operative neighbour with a private surveillance system.’
Douglas heard sniggering from several people around the room and Julie nudged him in the back with her breasts.
‘From the video, the van is a Ford Transit and the number plate was cloned from a similar vehicle registered to a company in London. The two figures are most probably male: one is about two metres tall and the other one-point-nine metres tall. Other than that they are average.’
‘DC Ashburner will give you a run down on the victim,’ Nicola said and beckoned him to the front.
Douglas treaded his way to the front and turned to face the crowd. ‘No ransom demand has been made, no hospital admissions, no communication to newspapers, radio or TV. She left her flat on Sunday night and was apparently abducted. No sighting of her after that by any of her friends and she has not attended lectures since Monday. For some reason, she took precautions to keep her address hidden from her friends and from any public record – she may have been aware she was a target. Her father is the chairman of the Scotia Investment Bank – not a well-known bank and one that didn’t appear to suffer from any of the well-known banking problems over the past years. Her mother’s whereabouts are unknown. Her matriculation photograph is available and her physical details. The information about her abduction suggests this is a contract abduction and not a sex crime.’
When he finished Superintendent Willis said. ‘Expand on the last comment.’
‘Hmm…the wording used suggests that one party was issuing instructions to another party, who would be carrying out the abduction, to the effect that: if they harmed her they would be history. I interpret this to mean that she is being held to ensure that someone, possibly her father, carries out an action.’
DS McCray stood up. ‘What did the message actually say?’
Douglas looked round at the Superintendent, hoping he would clarify the position on the spooky side of things and he duly obliged. ‘Come and see me in my office after the meeting, McCray.’
The DCI stood up. ‘Right then, people, the tasks for today are: DI Collins and DC Ashburner: locate and interview Sutherland’s father and mother. DS McCray, DC Innes and
PC Bryce door-to-door on the block of flats to start with; DS Bob Wyatt, DC Curtis search CCTV for the route of the van. And not least PC’s Symonds, McKimm, Dale, Sayers, Bennett, Frechoso and Mack – fingertip search of the car park; then door-to-door along the route of the van – once we know which one they used. Finally DI Collins will manage the HOLMES system.’
As they all filed out of the conference room Julie bumped him from behind. ‘Will you be back by lunchtime?’ she whispered.
‘We think her father’s in Edinburgh; so there and back, it’ll be one by the time we get back.’
She made a sour face. ‘I don’t think I’ll be back by then – it’s going to be a cold day tramping around asking questions.’
‘And Julie, if you get the sour-faced woman on the same landing, make sure she doesn’t fob you off with some bullshit about not knowing the victim.’
*****
The pool car Douglas booked out looked as if it might get them to Edinburgh and back without breaking down. Having to be rescued by the traffic division would not go down well with Collins. She came down promptly – clearly she was desperate to get away this morning and she didn’t insist on driving herself. He nosed the car out of the car park and into the rush hour traffic heading in the direction of the motorway, once they were clear of the city centre, and onto the M8, she relaxed and stretched out.
‘Tell me about James double-barrelled and the company he works for?’
Douglas waited until he had moved back to the inside lane before replying. ‘He develops software for large computer systems used in banks, Government departments, corporations, utilities, that sort of thing. The company was new to that type of thing and he was taken on as a senior engineer mainly because he had plenty of experience in that area. But, he says Marcus Triffit is the real genius and the driving force behind a development the company are doing for the Scotia Investment Bank and he’s disappeared. The whole project is secret, but Cameron-Smythe says it’s nothing to do with retail banking; it’s for the investment side of the business. Marcus Triffit is a friend of James and his brother Henry. And we haven’t had sight of Henry yet and he remains to be interviewed.’
Shallow Water Page 10
