Shallow Water

by Hunter J Walker

  ‘Yes, boss,’ he replied as he closed the door – things were back to normal.

  Outside he made his way to the drinks machine and put in the money for a black coffee.

  ‘Have you seen the report on our visit to Triffit’s flat?’

  He could tell from the voice it was Julie behind him without looking. ‘What does it say?’ he answered and waited for the cup to fill.

  ‘The racks and everything in the large bedroom have disappeared – vanished – along with most of the stuff from the second bedroom and the strange thing is, hardly anyone saw anything.’

  Douglas turned found to face her and the shocked look to her pixie face surprised him.

  ‘God! They really did you over…are you in a fit state to be in work?’ she gasped.

  ‘Sssh, if the boss hears you she’ll send me home.’

  ‘If I was the boss I’d have sent you home.’

  ‘You’re not the boss…now, why did you go round to his flat?’

  ‘On the CCTV from the reception area of Computing & Software Utilities there is a clear shot of Annabel Sutherland meeting Marcus Triffit. It was from a month ago so it wasn’t spotted in the early viewings.’

  ‘Mind if we head for my desk?’ Douglas hobbled over to his desk and slumped in the chair. She sat on the edge of the desk. ‘So you went back to look for anything connecting Annabel to Marcus?’

  ‘It was a long shot, we were pretty thorough the first time, but we were looking specifically for a person this time. Letters, photographs, cards anything that could have been from her.’

  ‘Did Nicola tell you about the connection Annabel had with Tony Doherty?’

  Julie looked disappointed. ‘We knew that from Shona’s CCTV video.’

  ‘Yes, but Doherty confirmed that he was having an affair with Annabel Sutherland and it had been going on for a year.’

  ‘So, did he have something to do with her disappearance?’

  ‘Good question, he said she was fine when he left for Spain.’

  ‘What did you expect him to say; of course he’s going to deny everything!’

  Douglas sipped his coffee and then he shook his head. ‘He said he would be ready to make a statement today. But, I can’t see him setting up a raid on a cash and carry; it’s just too small time for him. Also, I can’t see him nicking a pile of second hand computer bits…it’s just a bit too funny.’

  ‘I can’t see the joke myself.’

  ‘Sounds as if the Funny Men were there.’

  ‘I’m a bit slow today; you’ll have to spell it out for me, Douglas.’

  He smiled at the memory. ‘It’s a term an old lecturer of mine used for strange events – he told me once he’d been on an anti-Vietnam War demonstration outside the American embassy in Grosvenor Square and he got bored with it. To amuse himself he asked all the press photographers taking pictures of the demonstration which paper they worked for and the funny thing was, there were eight men from the Times and one from the Daily Worker.’

  ‘Ah, I see, Spooks.’

  ‘His rule was: If you could say: The funny thing was…then, the odds are that they’re involved.’

  ‘And the one from the Daily Worker was a double agent, I suppose.’

  ‘He probably was, Julie and I, don’t think we’ll get anywhere looking for that homemade supercomputer – it’s gone, never to be heard of again.’

  *****

  Nicola bustled out her office and headed for the door. ‘Got that pool car, Dougie?’ she asked as she passed his desk.

  ‘Not quite, ma’am,’ he said and grabbed his coat.

  ‘What does that mean, either we have a car or we haven’t?’

  He hobbled fast to keep up with her as she walked along the corridor. ‘We should have a hire car – if they’ve delivered it.’

  ‘You don’t know?’

  ‘They said they’d have it here for nine-thirty, but nobody’s been in contact.’

  ‘Did you come in your car?’

  ‘No, Susanne dropped me off this morning.’

  After punching the lift down-button she turned to him. ‘What’s with all the boxes in your flat?’

  ‘Yes, I’m moving into Susanne’s place.’

  ‘No wonder you’re a wreck – sex on tap every night.’

  Douglas ignored the last statement. ‘Triffit’s big computer has vanished? It must have been some job getting those six foot racks down the stairs.’

  ‘Nobody heard or saw anything.’

  ‘What about the CCTV camera, did anyone find whose it is?’

  ‘That’s on my to-do list.’

  ‘I bet they found it.’

  ‘Who.’

  ‘The team that got those racks down the stairs.’

  The doors opened and Douglas followed her inside, the doors closed and the lift juddered into action.

  ‘Who do you think did it?’ she said.

  ‘The Funny Men,’ Douglas said and was surprised when Nicola didn’t ask for an explanation of the phrase.

  ‘There seems to be a lot of that around at the moment.’

  *****

  At the roundabout Nicola turned into the retail parks and looked for the car park in front of the steel and glass building.

  ‘Is this the right one?’ Nicola asked.

  He glanced at the brass plate by the door as he followed Nicola into the vast entrance hall. She stalked across to the desks on the far side.

  The immaculate receptionist looked up at them and Nicola held up her warrant card. ‘Samuel Sutherland!’ she said.

  The receptionist looked puzzled.

  Nicola lent forward. ‘Get a move on! Tell him the police are here: DI Collins and DC Ashburner.’

  Clearly she wasn’t used to dealing with aggressive Glaswegian police officers. ‘Is he expecting you?’ she stammered.

  ‘Just get on with it, Ms.’

  She picked up the phone.

  ‘We’ll be over there,’ Nicola said waving an arm in the direction of the chairs.

  A short time later the same immaculate woman from their last visit appeared and walked towards them. ‘This way,’ she said.

  ‘Your name?’ Nicola asked as she caught up with her.

  ‘Diane.’

  ‘Your full name!’

  ‘Diane McCreedy.’

  ‘We’ll need to speak to you. Don’t go disappearing,’ Nicola said as they followed her into the small executive lift. The woman glanced at Nicola as if to speak, but seemed to think better of it and looked away again.

  *****

  Apart from a darker suit Sutherland was the same as on their previous visit. His arrogance remained and Nicola’s dislike of the man was plain in her voice when she spoke. ‘DI Collins and DC Ashburner again, we have some more questions for you.’ Nicola picked up one of the chairs and placed it directly in front of Sutherland. Douglas stood behind and to one side of Nicola.

  ‘Does the name Marcus Triffit mean anything to you Mr Sutherland?’

  ‘No, should it?’

  ‘He was working on a project for this bank?’

  Sutherland shook his head. ‘We have many people working for the bank and I haven’t time to meet them all, or learn their names.’

  ‘He worked for a company called Computing & Software Utilities It has a number of software development contracts with this bank.’

  ‘I am not aware of this company – another director deals with software development.’

  ‘Which director?’

  ‘Dr Wilson – he is currently on holiday in the Bahamas.’

  ‘Marcus Triffit knew your daughter and he was murdered last week.’

  ‘I was not aware of either of these details.’

  ‘Does the name Anthony Doherty mean anything to you?’

  The man’s expression didn’t change a fraction. ‘No.’

  ‘Does he have an account with this bank?’

  ‘I only know the more important clients, but I can get my secretary to check.’

/>   ‘He also knew your daughter.’

  ‘Again, I was not aware of that.’

  ‘Does the name James Cameron-Smythe mean anything to you? He was attacked two weeks ago and he also knew your daughter.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Does the name Henry Cameron-Smythe mean anything to you – he is missing and he also knew your daughter?’

  ‘I know nothing of these people.’

  ‘It just a bit of a coincidence that one of your daughter’s friends is dead, another maimed and another is missing.’

  ‘As you say inspector it is a bit of a coincidence, I know little of Annabel’s current set of friends.’

  ‘Are you aware of Annabel’s present whereabouts?’

  ‘No, you asked that question in your last interview.’

  ‘The situation could have changed since our last meeting.’

  ‘Have any of the people I asked you about ever been in contact with the bank?’

  ‘I have no knowledge of any of these. If you could leave the details with my secretary she will arrange for the details of any contacts with the bank to be forwarded to your department.’

  ‘We will need to speak to any person who dealt with Computing & Software Utilities for the bank and also to the people your daughter worked with, during her time at the bank.

  ‘Again my secretary will pass your request to our personnel department and they will arrange for you to interview all those still with us and forward the details of those that no longer are.’

  ‘If you are planning any trips abroad, sir, please contact us before leaving the country…to avoid any potential problems with the Border Agency,’ Nicola said and gave Sutherland a crocodile smile. ‘Thank you for your time, Mr Sutherland.’

  Sutherland didn’t respond and Nicola stood up and strode towards the door. Douglas followed her through the door into the outer office where Nicola stopped at the secretary’s workstation. ‘I am Detective Inspector Collins and I am conducting a murder inquiry and failure to co-operate can lead to criminal charges. I require details of any contacts or accounts the following people had with this bank.’

  Douglas watched her write the names on the secretary’s notepad, and after she tore the sheet off the pad, they departed with a curt thank you and made their way to the executive lift.

  As they walked across the marble floored foyer Douglas said: ‘I wonder just how many of those bank employees still work here. I bet most have been shunted out in the past couple of weeks.’

  Nicola gave him a lopsided smile. ‘I wouldn’t give you long odds on that bet.’

  *****

  Once they were on the M8 again Douglas relaxed and he mused on the next thing to do. Finally he spoke. ‘I want another look at Triffit’s flat.’

  Nicola shot him a look. ‘Why?’

  ‘The Spooks took the computer and logic dictates they also found where the CCTV camera feed went to and removed the evidence of their visit. But my guess is they left all the older stuff.’

  ‘Huh, I don’t think so Dougie; the buggers will have removed everything.’

  ‘OK, you might be right, but let’s check it out anyway.’

  She diverted her eyes from the road to glare at him. Douglas braced himself for a lecture on police etiquette.

  ‘All right, if we make it quick,’ she replied instead. ‘Get Tanya to meet us there with the key.’

  Douglas made the call and kept silent for the rest of the trip back to Glasgow in case she changed her mind.

  As they turned into Grey Street Nicola spotted Tanya standing on the pavement beside her grey Ford Ka. ‘Good, I like people who bother to be punctual, unlike some I could mention.’

  ‘Let’s hope she remembered to actually bring the key in her hurry to be punctual.’

  *****

  He opened the door to the large bedroom, the table sat in the middle of the bare room. All the toolboxes, monitors, keyboards, wiring, components and the two metre high racks were gone. He could see impressions in the carpet where the racks had been.

  Nicola joined him in the room. ‘Zilch, no fingerprints and no DNA. They did find a witness along the road saw them moving the stuff into a large van; she described them as the usual sort of removal men. They looked normal and she didn’t think anything of it; people move in and move out all the time around here.’

  ‘Experts then, these Spooks?’

  ‘You could say that, Dougie, now shall we start looking?’

  *****

  ‘It’s here,’ Douglas shouted.

  ‘What is?’ she called back from the living room.

  ‘The message.’

  Nicola put her head round the kitchen door. ‘What message and from whom?’

  ‘The Spooks left us a message,’ he said pointing at the tall fridge-freezer, long since pillaged of its contents by hungry SOCOs.

  ‘I can’t see it,’ she muttered, looking at the mass of letters magnetically glued to the door.

  Douglas pointed at the scatter of letters on the upper door to the refrigerator part. He moved his finger to spell out: I…T…S…I…N…T…H…E…L…O…F…T.

  ‘It’s in the loft,’ he said to make his point.

  Nicola tilted her head back and forth, squinting at the multicoloured letters. ‘If you say so, Dougie,’ she said eventually.

  ‘Have we looked in the loft?’

  ‘It can’t be very big; the flats on the next floor go up into the roof space.’

  ‘All it takes is a cubby hole,’ Douglas replied.

  ‘OK, I’ll get someone to check it out.’

  *****

  ‘We need to be going, Dougie, we can leave these guys to get on with it,’ Nicola called from the hallway.

  ‘I have one more thing to do,’ he replied and walked into the kitchen. He took out his mobile phone to take a photograph of the message on the fridge-freezer. He pointed the lens at the mess of letters. He looked at the image on the screen for the letters of the message, to ensure he included the whole message. ‘Bugger,’ he exclaimed in disbelief. The letters were just a random mess and spelled nothing now. He lowered the phone and looked carefully over the door where the message had been – the letters were arranged completely differently. Funny thing that, he thought to himself.

  *****

  Douglas made his way to the canteen; he would be lucky if he found a sandwich or baguette left after the lunchtime rush. Grabbing the last Tuna salad sandwich and a mug of coffee, he looked around the room and not recognising anyone among the scatter of people he sat at an empty table near the door. The sandwich had been eaten and the coffee almost finished by the time DS McCray entered the canteen. He scanned the room before ambling over to sit down opposite Douglas.

  ‘Well, DC Ashburner, your man McKenzie is here, turned himself in about an hour ago and even asked for you by name. The bad news is that he looks as if he’s gone five rounds with Mike Tyson. Black and blue all over, but whoever did it knew what they were doing and he has no real injuries. The police surgeon is with him now and we have to wait on his verdict before we can interview him, or not, as the case may be.’

  Douglas nodded. ‘Assuming he’s fit, Sergeant, who will interview him?’

  McCray smiled, which was a rare event. ‘I can see you’re keen to get your teeth into the wee bugger…I’ve checked with Caddell and he’s of a mind to let you interview him. But he wants Julie Bryce in there as well to make sure you don’t get too worked up and put one on the sod.’

  ‘Yes, Sergeant, understood…does she know about this?’

  ‘Not yet, you can pass on the good news. But now for the bad news: Slippery Sam is acting for him and, as you haven’t encountered this particular shark before, I will give you some advice. She cruises around the legal waters looking for keen young Detective Constables to eat and if you don’t want to be her next meal you need to be prepared and then some. If you slip up, you’re dead meat.’

  ‘Right Sergeant, I’ll find her and put her in the picture. And tha
nks for the warning.’ Douglas drained the last of his coffee and left the canteen.

  He found Julie in the corridor outside the MIU suite, deep in conversation with Belinda Williams – one of the secretaries from the fifth floor. As he approached they spotted him and ended their discussion before he was near enough to hear anything interesting. Douglas stopped beside them. ‘Hi Julie. Hi Belinda.’

  ‘Sorry, I’ve got to rush off,’ Belinda Williams muttered and departed along the corridor towards the lifts.

  Douglas watched her long legs striding away.

  ‘She has a really nice arse, but she’s too tall for you,’ Julie commented once she’d disappeared around the corner.

  ‘Hmmm…anyway, McCray has a job for you as my minder. He wants you in on an interview of Gordon McKenzie…it could be interesting.’

  ‘When is this event due to start?’

  ‘The doctor is giving him the once over. If he’s passed fit to go, and only then, can we start.’

  ‘What happened to him?’

  ‘I don’t know and my guess is that he won’t tell us,’ Douglas replied.

  *****

  The interview room was small and smelled of sweat, cheap aftershave, fear and Slippery Sam’s expensive perfume. Gordon McKenzie was slumped in the chair, his head down. He was in a bad way, one eye was half-closed and the other bruised, a graze on his forehead indicated where his face had met the floor and he held his right arm with his left hand as if it needed support; but he was walking and talking, so whoever administered the beating had been careful not to make it really disabling. The grey tracksuit and white trainers he wore were almost clean. The absence of the dirt and blood meant he had changed his clothes and washed the blood off his face at some point after the beating.

  Samantha Price, better known to the MIU as Slippery Sam, sat to the left of McKenzie – not too close, as McKenzie was sweating profusely. Knowing her type of client she had probably dosed herself with perfume in advance. She was dressed in a perfectly fitted blue skirt suit and a pink silk shirt. Her short blonde hair framed her oval face, with its bright blue eyes and slightly upturned nose. She would have been a real beauty, but for the thin line of her mouth, which gave a hint of the inner Rottweiler. A leather briefcase, monogrammed with the letters SHP, sat on the table in front her. Douglas made a mental note to ask his Susanne what the H stood for.