Gilly laughed. ‘We have a few girls like that. I always say to them, “Girls, if you can put one foot in front of the other”…’
‘Yeah, that’s us.’ Clare took a slug of wine. ‘The dunces.’
‘I can’t catch a ball either,’ Geoffrey said, giving her a smile.
She shot him a grateful look and went to open another bottle of wine.
Finally, they left, Gilly giggling about Tom booking them a suite at the Old Course Hotel.
‘He insisted,’ she said, ruffling his hair.
‘Well, you’re worth it,’ he said, taking her hand in his.
Clare said good night to them but, as Gilly moved forward to give her a hug, she stepped back, standing a little behind Geoffrey, and the moment passed.
As the tail lights vanished from the garden she closed the door and leaned heavily against it.
‘Oh Geoff,’ she said. ‘I’m so sorry.’
He took her in his arms. ‘No need to apologise. Just one of those things.’
Clare surveyed the dining table, piled high with dirty dishes. Geoffrey followed her gaze.
‘Up to bed, you,’ he said. ‘You’ve had a long day and a dinner party with – well, I’m not quite sure how to describe them.’
‘Don’t even try,’ Clare said. She looked again at the table. ‘Let’s leave this until morning.’
‘If we don’t clean up, Benjy will. You go up,’ Geoffrey insisted. ‘I’ll do some and soak the rest.’
Clare climbed the stairs, so thankful that Geoff had been there. She couldn’t have imagined dinner with those two on her own. In the bathroom she gave her face a cursory scrub and cleaned her teeth. She drank a glass of water to ward off the effects of the wine then fell into bed. Downstairs, she could hear Geoffrey moving about, clattering dishes and humming to himself. She checked her mobile phone again for messages and suddenly remembered her sister. Poor Jude, worried sick about baby James. She must call her in the morning. Her eyes were closing now and she picked up a paperback to read, determined to stay awake until Geoffrey came up. But she lasted no more than a page before sleep overtook her.
Thursday, 26 September
Chapter 24
‘I don’t even remember you coming to bed,’ Clare said, pouring milk over granola.
‘You were sound asleep by the time I came up.’
She surveyed the kitchen, clear of last night’s debris. ‘You shouldn’t have done all these dishes.’
Geoffrey bent and planted a kiss on her head. ‘I told you, it wasn’t a problem. I’m not working today.’
‘Lucky you.’ She pressed the cereal into the milk with the back of her spoon and waited for it to soak in.
‘So, Clare,’ Geoffrey began. ‘You and Tom – can I ask how long it’s been since…’
‘Long enough.’
‘But you kept in touch? After you broke up, I mean.’
‘We did – or rather Tom did. He thought we could mend it.’
‘But you didn’t.’
‘No.’ She rose and flicked the switch on the kettle.
‘Coffee’s already made,’ Geoffrey said.
‘I think I’ll have tea,’ Clare said, although she wasn’t quite sure why she said it.
‘Sorry, Clare. I know you’ve never wanted to talk about – well, what happened in Glasgow. But it might help…’
She turned and leaned against the sink, her hands behind her. ‘Okay, Geoff. You want to talk about it? Let’s talk!’
Benjy, hearing Clare’s voice raised, gave a low growl and Clare bent to shush him.
‘Clare…’ Geoffrey began.
‘No. You want to know, so I’ll tell you. You want the truth so you’re going to get it. The truth is, Geoff, I came here – I came to St Andrews because I shot someone. With a gun. And he died. There was an enquiry and I was cleared. But he still died. Okay? Satisfied?’
‘Clare,’ he said again, ‘you don’t have to – I mean, I do know a bit about it.’
‘Google me, did you?’
‘Well…’
‘So you’ll know it was a hostage situation. The boy I shot had taken a woman hostage and we had no bloody idea what was going on in that shop. And when he came out, brandishing that weapon – I didn’t know. We didn’t know what he might do. Didn’t know if he was off his head on drugs, or what.’
Benjy stretched up to reach her hand and began licking it. Geoffrey was watching her, saying nothing.
‘He raised the gun, you know, Geoff. Pointed it straight at me. I thought he was going to shoot so I shot him first.’
The kettle came to the boil with a hiss of steam. Clare picked it up and poured hot water into the teapot. She turned back, her eyes flashing. ‘But Google has no doubt told you that the weapon was a replica. A good one, but a replica all the same.’
‘You couldn’t have known,’ Geoffrey said. ‘The reports I read said it was identical to the real thing.’
‘That’s correct. I didn’t know. No one did. And if an innocent person had died at his hands…’
Clare carried the teapot back to the kitchen table and sat down. She picked up her spoon and loaded it with granola.
‘And that put a strain on your relationship with Tom?’
Clare chewed a mouthful then said, ‘Bit more than that, actually.’
He waited.
‘Tom, as you know, is a solicitor. Works for Jamieson Curr in Glasgow.’
Geoffrey nodded. ‘Yeah, he mentioned it. Big offices just off George Square.’
‘That’s them. Well, the family of the dead boy engaged Jamieson Curr to represent them at the fatal accident enquiry.’
‘Blimey.’
Clare shook her head, mouth full of cereal. ‘I know.’ She picked up the teapot and poured tea into a mug. ‘Jamiesons have a good rep, you see, for defending the indefensible. It wasn’t a surprising choice. Their clients have money and tend to get off on technicalities. This lad’s family didn’t have the money but it was high-profile enough to tempt them into pro bono work.’
Geoffrey sipped his coffee. ‘But surely Tom wasn’t involved? Conflict of interest.’
‘That’s just it,’ Clare said. ‘He hadn’t been with them very long. I don’t think they knew about Tom and me.’
‘He didn’t take it on? Surely?’
Clare shook her head. ‘No, but they did offer it to him.’
‘He turned it down?’
Clare put down her spoon. She was still full of chilli from the night before and somehow there was a lump in her throat that made it hard to swallow. ‘Three days, Geoff. He thought about it for three days. He only told me once he’d decided.’
He stared at her. ‘Bloody hell, Clare. Did you know he was considering it?’
‘Oh yes. My sergeant’s girlfriend was a receptionist at Jamiesons. She told him and he told me. I probably knew about it before Tom did. I also knew he said he’d think about it.’
‘What the hell was there to think about?’
Clare stirred milk into her tea. ‘Tom’s a career man. It would have been a good case for him.’
‘So you walked out?’
Benjy jumped up, putting his front paws on Clare’s knee. ‘He’s hungry.’
Geoffrey put a hand on hers. ‘He can wait a few more minutes.’
She squeezed his hand and smiled. ‘No, actually. I stayed. Or rather Tom stayed – it was my flat, you see. But I think we both knew. Or I did, at least.’ She removed her hand. ‘I’d better feed the dog.’ And she rose from the table. ‘I was exonerated, of course. But I knew I had to get away. Change of job, change of scene. Tom tried to persuade me to stay, even came up to St Andrews to talk things over. But he was part of that old life and I didn’t want him in the new one.’
‘And now he’s getting married.’
‘Yes, he is. To Gilly.’
Geoffrey looked at her intently. ‘Clare, how do you feel about that?’
She glanced down at Benjy, who was waiting obediently for her signal, and she n
odded towards his bowl. Benjy fell on his breakfast as though he hadn’t seen food for days.
Clare forced a smile. ‘Oh it’s fine, really. Just a bit of a surprise.’
‘Sure?’
‘Sure.’
They ate on without speaking. Clare was grateful to Benjy, whose noisy demolishing of his food broke the awkward silence.
Geoffrey was the first to speak. ‘About Gilly,’ he said. ‘She’s a bit…’
‘I know! I can’t quite find the words either.’
‘Think they’re suited?’
‘Probably. She’s young, pretty, works at a private school – she’ll make an excellent solicitor’s wife. And when she’s done that for a few years she’ll bear him two beautiful children who will grow up to be just like them.’ A note of bitterness had crept into Clare’s voice. She heard it but she couldn’t help it. She rose and scooped the remains of her breakfast into the bin then put the bowl in the sink.
‘You and Tom – did you ever think you might marry? I mean, before the shooting?’
‘No,’ she said. ‘Or, at least, I didn’t. I can’t speak for Tom.’
He seemed to be watching her. Waiting for something more.
‘I’d better have a quick shower,’ Clare said. ‘What will you do with your day off?’
He was looking at her still, as though the subject of Tom was unfinished. And then he smiled. ‘I’m going to look up an old chum. He’s had a lot on recently but seems to have a bit more free time now.’
‘In Dundee?’
‘No – St Andrews. In fact, he said he’d met you.’
Clare eyed him. ‘Who is it?’
‘Nice chap. He taught me Fine Art at university, many moons ago.’
‘Not…’
‘Nicholas Stewart. He thought you might remember him.’
* * *
Clare drove into St Andrews, flicking between radio stations, trying to avoid news reports on Abi and Lisa’s disappearance. It was now more than ninety hours since Abi had been taken. Almost twice as long as the doctor had said she might survive without digoxin. And, for the first time since Sunday, Clare allowed herself to consider the possibility that they might not find her alive. As she turned the car onto Largo Road, she wondered if Tony was right. Was it time to bring in someone else to run the search for Abi and Lisa? Was she, Clare, just not up to it?
The station car park was quiet when she arrived, save for a couple of reporters.
‘As soon as there’s any news we’ll let you know,’ she told them.
Inside the station she found little had come in overnight. She telephoned Rob, the DI from Dundee, for an update. He told her they had managed to find two neighbours who had identified Paul Sinclair and that they were still questioning his known associates.
‘The popular view is Sinclair was running drugs for someone in the Dundee area,’ he said.
‘Any idea who?’
‘No, but you have Amy Donovan there, yeah? I’d ask her.’
‘What about his flat?’ Clare asked.
‘SOCO been up there all night. No evidence of a baby. They’ve cleared it for us to go in, if you want a look.’
Chris appeared shortly after Clare.
‘No Sara?’ she asked.
‘She’ll be in,’ he said. ‘Just trying to get some breakfast down.’
Clare nodded but made no further comment. Instead she said, ‘Tony wants to bring in a DI from elsewhere. Says we’re not moving fast enough.’
‘Might help if he put in a hand’s turn,’ Chris said.
‘Ach, he’s better out of our hair. He is right about the lack of progress, though. We need to find that baby. Fancy another run out to see Kevin Mitchell?’
* * *
Wendy answered the door. ‘Any news?’
Clare shook her head. ‘How is he?’
‘Not good,’ Wendy said. ‘Spends most of his time out in the shed.’
‘What’s he doing out there?’
‘Not much that I can see. He seems to tidy a bit then he sits on a stool. Sometimes I take him out a cup of tea and he doesn’t even look at me. Doctor’s coming in every day though, just to keep an eye on him.’
Wendy led them into the kitchen and Clare looked out of the window towards the shed at the bottom of the garden. The door was ajar and she could see a figure moving about inside.
‘Have you told him about the car?’ Clare asked.
‘I said it had been found in Dundee. He doesn’t know about the two lads and the crash.’
‘Did he react?’
‘Not really. He’s not thinking straight.’
‘Any visitors?’
Wendy shook her head.
‘Come on,’ she said to Chris. ‘Let’s see what he’s up to.’
Kevin barely glanced at them when they appeared at the shed door.
‘How are you bearing up, Kevin?’ Clare said.
He shook his head. ‘Keeping busy. Suppose there’s no sign of Abi?’
‘Nothing yet,’ Clare said. ‘But no news is good news. It probably means she’s being well cared for.’
‘What about Lisa? Wendy said you’ve found her car.’
Clare shot a warning glance at Chris. She didn’t want to tell Kevin about the crash until she’d spoken to the passenger at least, if not both lads. He gave the merest nod showing he understood. ‘Not yet, Kevin. But we have a lot of officers out searching for both of them.’
Kevin returned to sorting through the contents of a cantilever toolbox.
Clare studied the shed, wondering how Kevin could occupy himself here for hours on end. Along one side, stout hooks had been bolted to the wall to hold an assortment of hand tools. At the far end was a lawnmower and what she thought was a strimmer. Something she would probably have to buy for the garden at Daisy Cottage. There were bottles of plant food, weed killer and the usual gardening tools. Her eye was caught by a hook by the door. She hadn’t noticed it on her last visit. It held a keyring with a single Yale key.
‘What does this open?’ she asked Kevin.
His brow creased. ‘Not sure, to be honest.’
‘Neighbour’s house, maybe?’ Chris suggested.
Kevin shrugged.
The key was shiny and looked new. ‘Mind if I borrow it, Kevin?’
‘Keep it if you like. I don’t need it.’
Clare pocketed the key, then put a hand on Kevin’s shoulder. ‘Kevin, there’s something I’d like to ask you about.’
He gazed at her, his face blank. ‘Yeah?’
‘You remember we said Lisa was seen taking a piece of paper from Abi’s pram and reading it? When she discovered Abi was gone?’
‘Yes,’ he said, his voice hoarse. ‘I remember.’
‘Well, it seems Lisa told Ashley what was written on the paper.’
Kevin waited.
‘It said “you were warned”.’
Kevin’s eyes widened. ‘Warned? Warned about what?’
‘That’s just it, Kevin. We don’t know. We were hoping you could help.’
Kevin shook his head. ‘Doesn’t make any sense. Who would write that? You sure Ashley wasn’t out of her head when she said it? She’s still on the drugs, no matter what she tells you.’
‘I think she was telling the truth, Kevin. So I’ll ask you again: were you and Lisa involved in anything you’ve not told us about? It doesn’t matter just now what it was. But if there was something, we need to know. And we need to know now.’
Kevin’s eyes were swimming with tears now. ‘You think this is our fault? That we’ve done something wrong and someone’s punishing us for it?’ He started to sob and Clare led him gently out of the shed and up the garden into the house.
When he had no tears left, he drew a grimy hand across his face. ‘Sorry.’
‘You’ve nothing to be sorry for,’ Clare said. ‘I’m sorry that we upset you. But we have to find out everything about you and Lisa in case it has a bearing on Abi’s abduction.’
H
e looked at Clare, his eyes pink and his face blotchy. ‘Honestly, Inspector, if I knew anything, do you not think I’d tell you?’
‘I think you would, Kevin.’
Clare left Chris keeping an eye on Kevin and took Wendy into the hall to show her the key. ‘Any idea what this could be for?’
Wendy took the key and weighed it in her hand. ‘Nothing comes to mind. Leave it with me and I’ll have a look round.’
Clare thanked her and she signalled to Chris that they were leaving.
‘Poor bastard,’ Chris said in the car. ‘He’s just about finished.’
As Clare started the engine a call came through. She handed her phone to Chris. ‘Take that, will you?’
Chris spoke into the phone then hung up. ‘Our car passenger’s being released from hospital today. The uniforms up there are going to bring him in. Doctor’s given the go-ahead for him to be interviewed.’
‘Good. After speaking to Kevin, I’m just in the mood. I’m going to wipe the floor with the little scrote.’
As they drove back, Chris said, ‘Where do you think Lisa is?’
Clare shook her head. ‘Honestly, I’ve no idea. My head tells me Dundee somewhere, but I’m starting to wonder if she’s still alive.’
‘But why would she not be?’
‘Take your pick. Guilt over Abi’s abduction could lead her to suicide. She could easily be desperate enough. Or if she really has upset someone maybe they’ve got her too. Maybe right now she’s being held against her will, somewhere, by the same folk who have Abi. Maybe she offered herself as a swap. I really don’t know.’ She pulled the car into the station car park, reversing into the last remaining space. ‘Either way, it’s a pretty grim lookout.’
Inside the station Elaine Roberts had arrived to meet with Sara to discuss her pregnancy. The other officers stared, wondering what Sara had done to deserve Elaine’s attention. She cut a curious figure, the other staff dressed mostly in uniform or comfortable suits. Elaine’s dress was dark red and plain but her shoes and accessories were considered and expensive. She was unwinding a Hermès scarf as Clare entered.
‘Ah, Clare,’ Elaine said in her usual syrupy tone. ‘And how are you?’
‘Very well, thanks, Elaine. Busy with this investigation.’
In Plain Sight Page 21
