In Plain Sight

by In Plain Sight (epub)

  Neil regarded the ladders. ‘And I’m guessing he’s in the skip?’

  ‘Afraid so.’

  He shook his head. ‘I’m getting too old for this lark.’ He smiled at Raymond. ‘Am I okay to get in there?’

  Raymond indicated one side of the skip. ‘By my reckoning, he’s been thrown in from this side. So, if you can approach him from the other side, we should avoid cross-contamination.’

  Neil began putting on a white suit and moved the photographer’s ladder round to the far side.

  ‘Come on,’ Clare said to Chris. ‘Let’s get out of their way and work this out.’

  ‘There’s a restaurant round the corner,’ Chris said, more in hope than expectation. ‘And we did miss lunch…’

  ‘Okay, let’s go and find some food. We can talk it over while we eat.’

  The lunchtime rush was over and the early evening diners hadn’t started to arrive so they had their pick of the tables. Clare chose a table in the corner to avoid being overheard and she sank down onto a bench seat, glad of the rest. A smiling waitress in a maroon blouse and dark trousers approached to take their order. Chris, with scant regard for his cholesterol, ordered a fry-up. Clare shook her head at this and chose the haddock quiche. ‘You won’t see forty at this rate,’ she told him, handing her menu back to the waitress.

  ‘But I’ll die happy.’

  She looked round. There was no one within earshot but she kept her voice low. ‘So – our body…’

  ‘Okay,’ Chris said. ‘You’re thinking it’s Paul Sinclair?’

  Clare opened her mouth to reply, then she saw their waitress approaching with a tray bearing cutlery and condiments. They fell silent as the waitress set their table. Clare waited until she was out of earshot then said, ‘It could be Sinclair. I mean, we’ve only seen photos of him but, from the pharmacy footage, I’d say the body could be him. Same build and probably about the same age.’

  Chris nodded. ‘That jacket too. Pretty similar to the one worn by the pharmacy burglar.’

  ‘With a bit of luck they’ll have him out of there soon and we can find someone to identify him.’

  The waitress approached again carrying two plates, which she set down before them. Clare smiled her thanks.

  ‘Better eat up and get back,’ Clare said.

  Chris tore the corner off a sachet of ketchup and squeezed it onto his plate. Then he speared a sausage with a fork and dipped it into the sauce. ‘Mind you, Clare,’ he said, between mouthfuls, ‘if it is him in the skip, and he was killed and dumped there, it doesn’t necessarily mean his death is anything to do with Abi’s abduction, does it?’

  Clare considered this. ‘No, that’s true, but it would be quite a coincidence. Think about it, Chris. He takes Abi on Sunday, dumps the bike in the field just outside Guardbridge and hands her over to someone else. Someone with a car.’

  ‘Okay, with you so far,’ Chris said.

  ‘He heads back to Dundee and then whoever ordered the kidnap sees our broadcast and realises Abi needs digoxin.’

  ‘Sinclair gets another call,’ Chris said, picking up the thread, ‘and heads to the pharmacy that night to steal the drug.’

  ‘Sinclair and someone else, don’t forget,’ Clare added.

  ‘Yeah. No idea who though.’

  Clare started to speak then broke off as the waitress approached again to ask if everything was all right with their meal. When she had moved away, Clare said, ‘Then yesterday Sinclair is splashed all over the news. Whoever has ordered the abduction knows it’s only a matter of time till we pick him up. He’s become a liability.’

  ‘And he needs to be silenced. Permanently.’

  ‘Wouldn’t be the first time it’s happened. Hire someone to do your dirty work then get rid of them.’ She looked at Chris. ‘What do you reckon?’

  Chris munched on a piece of hash brown. ‘Yeah, you could be right, Clare. Guys like Sinclair are ten a penny. If you’re the kind of bloke who pays for babies to be kidnapped, getting rid of a scumbag like him, well, it’s all in a day’s work. Assuming it is Paul Sinclair.’

  Clare’s phone began to buzz. Neil Grant.

  ‘He’s out of the skip now, Clare, if you want a look. The ambulance is here but I can get them to hold on, if you’re nearby.’

  ‘Come on,’ she said to Chris, rising from the table and tucking a twenty-pound note under the salt. ‘The body’s out of the skip.’

  Chris grabbed a rasher of bacon and followed Clare out of the restaurant.

  The body lay on an ambulance trolley, the face white and waxy. There were marks on his head but Clare found it impossible to tell if it was bruising or just grime from the skip. They stood, scrutinising it for anything that might help with his identity. The jacket certainly looked familiar but Clare couldn’t be sure.

  ‘I suppose it’s too early for a cause of death?’ she asked Neil Grant.

  ‘Probably the knife wounds in his back. From the blood loss, he was alive when the knife went in. But I’ll give you more details once I’ve done the post-mortem.’

  It was left to one of the Dundee uniforms manning the cordon to confirm what Clare feared.

  ‘It’s Paul Sinclair.’

  ‘You sure?’ Clare said. ‘According to the pathologist there’s no ID on the body.’

  ‘Definitely. He tried to stab me with a needle once when I was arresting him. You don’t forget that, Inspector. And that tattoo on his hand – the serpent one. I recognise that. Jailed him a few times. Another scumbag off the street.’

  Clare didn’t share his sentiment. Paul Sinclair had been their link with Abi and now they were further away than ever from finding her. ‘Next of kin?’

  ‘Mother used to live in Dundee. Housing estate in the north of the city. Not sure if she’s still alive, though. She was getting on a bit.’

  ‘Alderwood?’ Clare asked.

  ‘Yeah, you know it?’

  ‘Susan Clancy lives there,’ Clare said. ‘And we keep coming back to her.’

  Chapter 22

  Eventually, Paul Sinclair’s body was borne off to the mortuary to await the post-mortem exam. Reinforcements had arrived and were now combing the area for a weapon. Employees in the adjacent buildings were being interviewed, although Clare doubted any of them would have seen anything. SOCO had completed their initial investigations and were now packing up their equipment.

  Clare decided to leave Chris in charge of the search for a weapon and head back to the station. She found Amy Donovan bent over a computer, her low-cut jeans showing the top of a pink lacy thong. Clare wondered how the hell she could work in one of those things, recalling one endlessly uncomfortable wedding when Tom, her ex, had persuaded her to wear the matching underwear he’d bought for Valentine’s Day.

  Tom.

  She remembered his text message that she’d left unopened and was about to take out her phone when she saw Tony approaching. His eyes, too, were focused on Amy’s thong. He put a hand on her shoulder and Clare was nettled to see Amy didn’t object. The man was a sexual harassment case waiting to happen.

  ‘Any luck on those drugs?’ he asked Amy, before Clare could speak.

  ‘Yep. Looks like the same stuff.’

  ‘So Val Docherty could be operating in Fife?’ Clare asked.

  Amy turned to face Clare, shrugging off Tony’s hand. ‘I’d be surprised if she’s doing it herself. She’ll be at least one person away from it, if not two. She’s not daft.’

  Clare considered this. ‘So Val supplies someone, possibly in St Andrews, and that person deals to users, or even other dealers in the town?’

  ‘Yeah, something like that,’ Amy said.

  ‘Would they need a car? That would let Susan Clancy out. Pretty sure she doesn’t have one.’

  ‘Not always,’ Amy said. ‘But it wouldn’t be an issue. Cars can be found. Taxis, if the deal’s big enough.’ She sat back to think, then said, ‘If I were you, Clare, I’d bring Val in for a chat.’

  Clare
frowned. ‘Is she likely to talk?’

  Amy shook her head. ‘No. You’ll be very lucky to get anything out of her. But if word gets out that she’s in for questioning, it’ll stir things up a bit. Then we’ll see whose head pops up. My lads will spot any activity.’

  Tony yawned. ‘I need a coffee.’

  Clare watched him go. ‘Why do you let him paw you like that? It’s completely inappropriate.’

  Amy laughed. ‘Calm down, Clare! I’m just winding him up. He thinks he’s getting somewhere but the truth is he never will. Now, do you want me to get someone in Edinburgh to bring Val in?’

  ‘Please. You got an address for her?’

  ‘Yeah, some quiet street in Barnton. The lads know where it is. Been over the house often enough looking for drugs.’

  ‘Barnton, eh?’ Clare’s eyes widened at the idea of Big Val Docherty living in one of Edinburgh’s more expensive suburbs.

  Amy gave a wry smile. ‘Yeah, drugs pay. If you’re far enough up the line.’

  Clare saw Lyall hovering and she went to speak to him. ‘Any luck, Lyall?’

  ‘Maybe. I’m not sure.’ He picked up a pile of printouts from the desk. ‘I’ve found out Val lives in Edinburgh…’

  ‘Yes, we know that.’

  ‘But she wasn’t born there. Originally, she was brought up in Newport-on-Tay. It’s about eleven miles from here. On the way to Dundee, just beside the Tay Road Bridge.’

  Clare said, ‘I know it. Nice place.’

  Lyall fished out another sheet of paper and handed it to Clare. ‘Now Val has a sister, and from what I can gather, she’s down in Ipswich. But this’ – he pointed at the paper – ‘is their mother’s last-known address. The family house in Newport.’

  ‘Is the mother still there?’

  Another sheet of paper. ‘She died five years ago. But I can’t find any record of the house being sold.’ He handed Clare another printout with a map of Newport-on-Tay. He had circled a house. ‘This one here. Number twenty-six.’

  Clare studied the map. ‘Are these ex-council houses?’

  ‘Yes, I think so.’

  She stared at the map, trying to visualise the street. Had she been to that part of Newport before? She couldn’t remember. ‘But surely the house has been sold by now?’

  ‘That’s just it. I can’t find any record of a sale. I think Val and her sister might still own it. She could be renting it out, of course. I’d have to trawl through estate agents records to find that. And they might not be willing to give me the information. But they’d tell you.’

  Clare looked at the reporter. ‘Lyall, this is excellent work. I’m very grateful.’

  His face lit up and she felt a stab of conscience. He meant well. He really did.

  ‘Go and get yourself a coffee,’ she said. ‘You’ve earned it.’

  * * *

  It was mid-afternoon before Chris returned from Dundee. ‘No sign of a weapon,’ he told Clare. ‘SOCO have taken samples from around the body and the edge of the skip. There’s a short blood trail from a few feet away. I reckon he’d arranged to meet someone there and was taken by surprise. Killer knifes him in the back, he falls then he’s manhandled into the skip with some rubble thrown in after him.’

  Clare leaned back against a desk. ‘So, assuming Paul Sinclair snatched Abi and did the pharmacy burglary – he could have been killed to shut him up. Maybe he wanted more money or maybe whoever is behind the abduction wanted to make sure he wouldn’t talk – if he was arrested.’

  ‘Yeah, we worked that out in the restaurant.’

  ‘But what we don’t know, Chris, is who his accomplice is. Who is the other pharmacy burglar? And, is that person our killer or could he or she also be in danger from whoever killed Sinclair?’

  ‘Good point.’

  ‘We really need to bring in some of Paul Sinclair’s known associates and start leaning on them,’ Clare said. ‘We’ve lost Sinclair so that other burglar is our only lead now.’ She leaned forward, off the desk, and began massaging her neck with her hands. ‘God, I hate this case.’

  ‘Would a coffee help, boss?’ Sara said.

  Clare shook her head. ‘We need to find out what was on that note Lisa took from the pram.’

  ‘Ashley,’ Chris said. ‘Want me to bring her in again?’

  ‘Let’s go and see her at her house. I don’t want her in the station when Val Docherty arrives. If Ashley’s involved with Val’s drugs ring, we don’t want her seeing Val and being too scared to speak to us.’

  Clare’s phone began to ring and she snatched it up.

  ‘Boss,’ a voice said. There was a lot of background noise and she struggled to hear the caller. Then she realised it was one of the officers she had left in Bingham Terrace, keeping an eye on Lisa Mitchell’s Audi.

  ‘Sorry, guys, I meant to get someone—’

  ‘The car, boss. Two guys appeared out of the park. Didn’t pay them much attention then suddenly they were in the car, reversing back along the road. They’ve headed up to the Kingsway. We’re after them now.’

  Clare’s heart began to pound. Two men in the car. They must have had the keys and now they were on the Kingsway, a broad dual carriageway that ran along the north end of Dundee. ‘Get onto the traffic boys in Dundee.’

  ‘Already done,’ the voice said. Clare could hear the radio crackling in the car, punctuated by the squeal of tyres as they rounded a corner.

  ‘Do not lose that car,’ Clare said, into the radio. ‘I want those guys in one piece.’

  More squealing and prolonged hooting on the horn. ‘The way they’re driving…’

  ‘Map of Dundee,’ Clare called, and Sara ran off to find one.

  ‘Driving like a fuckin’ maniac,’ the voice said.

  The team had gathered behind Clare in the incident room and she switched her phone to speaker.

  ‘Where are you now?’ she asked.

  ‘Just passing Caird Park. Jeeeeeeesus – he nearly hit a cyclist on the roundabout.’

  ‘Be careful,’ she said. ‘I want them alive but not at any cost.’

  Sara appeared with a large map of Dundee which she pinned up on the board. Bill, who lived in Dundee, put a pin in the Kingsway. ‘That’s Caird Park,’ he said. ‘If they’ve come from the Baxter Park end, they’re heading west.’

  ‘Passing Tesco now,’ the voice said. ‘Picking up speed. The traffic car’s approaching the Coupar Angus roundabout from the other end. Should just be in time to cut them off.’

  Through the phone, Clare could hear the siren from the traffic car. She held her breath.

  ‘Traffic car sitting broadside over the roundabout now,’ the voice said. ‘Another car blocking the route south.’

  They waited. Surely this was the break they needed.

  ‘Shit!’ the voice said. ‘The bastard’s gone the wrong way on the roundabout. He’s heading out the Coupar Angus Road now. We’re following him…’

  There were more sirens now. Clare found it almost unbearable, listening to the chase from fifteen miles away.

  ‘He’s taken a right,’ the voice said. ‘Heading for Templeton Woods.’

  Bill shifted the pin showing the woods. The car was almost off the top of the map now.

  ‘Is there a way of heading them off?’ Clare asked.

  Bill shook his head. ‘Not a chance. There’s a network of country lanes out there. No way of knowing which way they’ll turn. Best just to stick on their tail.’

  The screeching of brakes and sirens drowned out everything else; and then she heard the noise she dreaded more than anything. The ear-splitting sound of metal twisting.

  Then silence.

  ‘He’s hit a fuckin’ tree,’ the voice on the radio said.

  ‘Get an extinguisher,’ Clare said. ‘Do not put yourselves in danger.’

  They heard the sound of the car doors opening and the wind buffeting the phone. Then the voice spoke again. ‘Driver looks to be unconscious. Passenger struggling with his door. Damm
it, he’s legged it. Benny’s gone after him.’

  The wait was agonising. Only a minute or so, but to Clare it seemed endless. The room was silent.

  And then the voice again. ‘Driver looks pretty bad,’ he said. ‘Traffic boys have gone up the road after Benny and the passenger.’

  ‘Get an ambulance,’ Clare ordered.

  ‘Already called.’

  Another pause and then the phone crackled again. ‘Benny’s got him.’

  ‘Yes!’ Clare said, punching the air. ‘As soon as the paramedics have checked he’s fit to be questioned get the traffic car to bring him over here.’

  The distant siren of an ambulance was coming nearer and Clare thought, for the first time, that maybe this was the break they had been waiting for. ‘We’re coming for you, Abi,’ she said, quietly. ‘Just hang on.’

  Chapter 23

  The Dundee officer called a short time later to say the paramedics had examined the car passenger. ‘They are insisting the lad needs to go to hospital,’ he told Clare.

  ‘Is there no way we can interview him?’ Clare said. ‘I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.’

  ‘Sorry, boss. They say he’s showing signs of mild concussion and he needs immediate medical care.’

  Clare tutted her frustration and thanked the officer. As she put the phone down, Amy shouted across.

  ‘It’s Val Docherty,’ she said. ‘Edinburgh lads say no one at home. Curtains drawn. Neighbours say she’s gone away for a few days. Asked them to feed the cat.’

  Clare groaned. It was one step forward, two steps back with this case. ‘Can you get Tony to authorise putting Val’s photo out please? Wanted in connection with enquiries – nothing too specific.’

  ‘Will do. They may find her yet. There’s a few places they know to try.’

  ‘Okay, thanks Amy. Keep me posted.’ Clare stood for a minute thinking what to do next. She checked her watch. She was running out of day and they still hadn’t spoken to Ashley. ‘Get a couple of cops to bring Ashley in here,’ she said to Chris. ‘It’s not like she’s going to run into Val now. Might as well save our time.’