* * *
Sara was hovering, waiting to speak to Clare.
Matt regarded at her. ‘And you are?’
‘PC Sara Stapleton.’ She looked from one to the other. ‘I have the phone records for Paul Sinclair…’
Clare took the printout from Sara. ‘Come on, Matt. Let’s find a room. We can look at the phone records and I’ll bring you up to speed.’
‘Just if it’s no trouble…’
* * *
Paul Sinclair’s phone had hundreds of numbers, most of them stored without a name.
Clare leafed through the printouts. ‘Typical dealer’s phone.’
Sara had highlighted calls and texts from two days before Abi’s abduction until Wednesday evening when it was either switched off or damaged. Clare scanned the list. There were outgoing calls and texts up to Monday evening but after that, all the calls were incoming. Maybe Sinclair was keeping his head down after the abduction.
She checked first for the number of the phone Lisa had hidden in her bathroom. It wasn’t there. She took out her notepad and flicked over pages until she came to Ashley McCann’s phone number. ‘Let’s check for this one.’
Again, there were no calls or texts between Paul and Ashley’s phones.
‘Dammit,’ she said.
‘You were looking for what?’ Matt asked.
‘A connection between Lisa Mitchell and Paul Sinclair.’
‘Did you really think there would be?’
‘No,’ Clare admitted. ‘But we’re struggling to find a motive for Abi’s abduction. And there must be a reason Lisa went AWOL on Tuesday night.’ Clare continued poring over the list of numbers. ‘Let’s try Saturday night.’
They scanned the list together.
‘This one.’ Clare jabbed the printout with her finger. ‘See, he’s called it Saturday afternoon, Saturday night and Sunday morning at ten. Then another call on Monday morning. Too much of a coincidence. These calls must be to do with Abi’s abduction. One call to say he’s going to nick a pizza bike, the next one to say he’s done it and then Sunday morning to say he’s in position. As for Monday’s call, who knows? Maybe asking for more money.’ She stood. ‘I’ll get it checked out, although I suspect it’ll be another burner phone.’
Matt rose. ‘I’ll go through the case file. Give me a shout when you’re done.’
* * *
When Clare emerged from examining Paul Sinclair’s phone records she found a message asking her to call one of the Dundee officers. Jenny, the Detective Sergeant, confirmed they could get nothing useful from Paul’s known associates.
‘I suspect they know more than they’re letting on,’ she said. ‘But they’re not talking. One of them did say Paul had mentioned treating himself to a couple of weeks in Spain. Like he was expecting to come into some money. But that’s it.’
‘And they won’t say where he was getting the money?’
‘Nope. A wall of silence. Someone’s put the frighteners on them.’
Clare ended the call and sat thinking. She was more convinced than ever there was some connection between Paul and Lisa. That note, saying Lisa had been warned, then Lisa disappearing, probably the night before Paul was killed. Was it possible Paul wasn’t killed by the person who now had Abi, but by Lisa? Was it Lisa who had traced him and followed him to that industrial estate? Maybe she had threatened him. Demanded he take her to Abi and, when he refused, she went for him. It sounded doubtful but Clare was convinced now that there was more to Lisa than they had first thought. But could someone of Lisa’s size and build manhandle the likes of Paul Sinclair into a high-sided skip? Certainly not by herself.
The phone rang again. It was Neil Grant, the pathologist.
‘Your body,’ Neil said. ‘Massive blood loss from five stab wounds, leading to heart failure. I’d put death at sometime between midday and midnight on Monday.’
‘Wednesday, surely?’ Clare said, before she could stop herself. ‘His phone was still active right up to Wednesday.’
‘Nope. It was Monday. Early hours of Tuesday at the very most. Absolutely no later.’
Clare thanked Neil and ended the call. That certainly let Lisa out of the frame for killing Paul. She and Kevin had been at home with officers stationed, inside and out, on Monday. Not that she’d seriously considered Lisa but, in the absence of any other suspects, Clare was getting desperate. Abi was still missing and Paul Sinclair now lay in a mortuary fridge, stabbed by someone who had carried on using his phone for the next two days. Was it Val Docherty? Or someone else? Clare’s thoughts went back to Lisa. Why had she suddenly taken off on Wednesday night, and where the hell was she now?
Chapter 26
Clare contacted Diane at Tech Support to request a Stingray report on Paul Sinclair’s mobile. ‘Can you get me a full list of any masts he’s pinged, please? I want to know where that phone’s been since Saturday night.’
Diane said she’d get back to Clare within the hour.
While she was waiting, Chris returned with the CCTV footage from the pub.
‘Let’s look at it later,’ she said. ‘I want to see if Val Docherty’s at her mother’s house.’
‘You think she might be?’
‘Well, Lyall couldn’t find any record of the house being sold and she’s not at Barnton, so it’s worth a shot. If she is involved in either Abi or Lisa’s disappearance, she’ll be laying low.’
They followed the same route out of St Andrews towards Dundee but came off the A92 before the Tay Road Bridge, dropping down into Newport-on-Tay. It was a small but bustling town, spread out along the banks of the River Tay, with a selection of shops collected in the centre.
As they drove into the village, under the high legs of the bridge, Chris squinted at the map Lyall had given them. ‘Take a left up this hill.’
The house was in a narrow street with cars parked on either side.
‘Best leave the car here,’ Clare said. ‘We can walk along and suss out the house without her hearing the engine.’
‘If she’s there.’
‘Well, yes.’
They walked along the road, the pavement cluttered with blue dustbins awaiting the bin lorry.
‘This is it.’ Clare stopped at a low, wooden gate. Beyond the gate was a small garden laid out in slabs and gravel. There were blinds in the windows and the paint on the front door was peeling. There was another door on the gable end of the house. ‘Must be divided. What’s the number?’
Chris studied the printout again. ‘Twenty-six.’
‘Then it’s this one at the front.’ Clare looked at the windows. No sign of life. ‘Let’s check round the back first. Just in case.’
The windows at the back were tightly shut and it didn’t look as if they were large enough to allow anyone to escape in a hurry.
‘Certainly not someone of Big Val’s size,’ Chris said.
They walked noiselessly back to the front. Clare went to press the front doorbell when Chris grabbed her arm.
‘It’s a video bell,’ he said. ‘Press it and it’ll take your photo. Probably send it to her phone. I wouldn’t knock either, in case that triggers it.’
‘Thanks, Chris.’ She moved instead to a window, away from the door, and tapped on the glass. Then she put her ear to it and listened. There was no sound and no sign of life. She knocked again, louder this time. A window opened above them and a bleary-eyed head poked out.
‘D’ye mind? I’m on the night shift.’
‘Sorry to disturb you,’ Clare said. ‘We’re looking for Val.’
‘She’s no’ in,’ the head said.
‘Would you know where we could find her?’ Chris asked.
‘She’ll be down the shops. Likely getting something for her dinner.’
Clare and Chris called their thanks and the head disappeared, slamming the window. They walked back down the path, stepping over the low, wooden gate and back out into the street. Clare lifted the lid on one of the blue dustbins. They hadn’t been emp
tied yet and she had a good look inside the bins sitting near to Val’s gate.
‘No nappies or anything else for babies, as far as I can see,’ she said.
‘Long shot, anyway,’ Chris said. ‘From what I hear of Val, she’s not the maternal type. If she has taken Abi, she’ll have someone else looking after her.’
‘Fair point,’ Clare said. ‘Come on – we can call back later.’
They walked back down the street. As they neared the car, a woman rounded the corner. She lumbered slowly up the road towards them, a plastic carrier bag dangling from one hand. Beneath a long leather coat, she wore a leopard-print blouse and a black skirt, straining at the waist. Judging by her leathery skin, she was another who was no stranger to a sunbed. Her blonde hair was dyed, the dark roots just starting to show, and her face heavily made-up. A pair of long, gold earrings swayed back and forth as she made her leisurely progress up the street.
She eyed Clare and Chris and made to walk past them.
‘Excuse me,’ Clare said, and the woman stopped. Clare noticed she was breathing hard.
‘That hill,’ the woman said, between breaths. ‘Killer.’
‘We’re looking for Val Docherty,’ Clare said, showing the woman her badge.
‘Oh, are ye, now?’
‘It’s you, isn’t it?’ Clare said. ‘You are Val Docherty, aren’t you?’
The woman gave them the once-over. ‘I’d love to stand and chat but I’ve a hot date with a bacon roll.’
‘We need to speak to you on a matter of some urgency,’ Clare said. ‘We’ll arrange to bring you back home once we’re done. Chris here will even put your bacon in the fridge while we chat.’
‘Will I be needing my solicitor?’ Val asked.
‘That’s entirely up to you,’ Clare said. ‘But it’s just an informal chat for now.’
‘I think I’ll call him, if it’s all the same to you,’ Val said, handing the carrier bag to Chris and taking out a gold Samsung.
* * *
Val entered the station at St Andrews as if she was at a red-carpet premiere. She removed her coat and handed it to a young constable. ‘Here, sonny, get a hanger for that. And see you keep an eye on it.’
The officer shot a glance at Clare and took the coat without a word.
Val grinned when she saw Amy. ‘Amy, doll. We meet again. Still thin as a rake, I see.’
Amy came across the room. ‘Val. You know we’ve been looking for you?’
‘Having a wee holiday. You should try it. You’re looking tired, hen.’
‘Sweet of you to care, Val,’ Amy said, and turned away. ‘I won’t keep you. I’m sure these two have plenty of questions for you.’
Clare led Val into an interview room.
‘Milk, two sugars,’ Val said, settling herself down to await their questions.
Clare closed the door on her and gave Sara the shopping to stick in the fridge.
‘There’s a message from Diane at Tech Support,’ Sara said, walking towards the small kitchen. ‘She’s emailed the Stingray information you wanted.’
Clare followed her over. ‘Thanks, Sara.’ She watched Sara for a moment then said, ‘You look a bit brighter today. Feeling any better?’
Sara’s hand went to her stomach. ‘A bit, thanks boss. Not so nauseous.’
‘That’s good.’ Clare was about to ask Sara how her meeting with Elaine had gone when she was called to the phone. It was Wendy.
‘Funny thing, Clare,’ Wendy said. ‘Lisa’s boss has just been in to speak to Kevin.’
‘Sacha? What did she want?’
‘It’s a bit odd. She said she needed to get into Lisa’s lock-up.’
‘What lock-up?’
‘That’s what Kevin said. He knew nothing about it. So Sacha said that Lisa had an old garage somewhere in town. Something about it belonging to a neighbour who didn’t want it any more.’
‘Where?’
‘No idea. Kevin doesn’t know either. Sacha said she’d taken a delivery of new sunbeds but hadn’t the room to store them, so Lisa said she’d look after them. Brought a van round and took them to her lock-up. And now Sacha needs the sunbeds. She was asking Kevin if he had the keys.’
Clare remembered the key she’d found hanging on a hook in the shed. The key she’d left with Wendy.
‘Wendy…’
‘Don’t worry. I’ve still got the key. I told Sacha you had it and that I’d try to get it back as soon as I could.’
‘Does Sacha have any idea where the lock-up might be?’
‘No, but I got the impression it was quite close by. She recalls Lisa saying it was only a few minutes away in the car.’
Clare looked round the room and her eyes fell on the officer who had taken Val’s coat. ‘Wendy, I’ll send a couple of guys over for the key and get them to start checking lock-ups in the town.’
* * *
Val’s solicitor arrived soon after, dressed in a sharp suit and calf-coloured brogues. His hair was a little too long and his chin sharp. He looked round the station without enthusiasm and insisted on speaking to the officer in charge. He introduced himself to Clare as Dermot Callaghan then demanded to know why his client had been brought to the station. Clare explained they were hunting a missing mother and baby, and investigating a murder.
‘I’m sure your client will be happy to assist,’ she added.
She left Dermot and Val to chat for a few minutes and went to check if Diane had emailed over the Stingray report on Paul Sinclair’s phone. The email was there and she read it twice, trying to make sense of it.
‘Chris,’ she called. ‘Have a look at this.’
Chris came and stood behind her, squinting at the screen. ‘But that doesn’t make any sense. We found Paul Sinclair in a skip in the north of Dundee. According to the PM report he was killed and dumped there on Monday night. What the hell is his phone doing pinging a mast at Birkhill on Wednesday?’
Clare moved to a map on the wall. ‘Where is Birkhill exactly?’
Chris traced his finger along the map. ‘Here. Just north of Dundee. At least fifteen miles away.’
‘But isn’t that…’
‘Templeton Woods, yeah. Just at the back of Birkhill.’
‘Where those lads crashed the Audi?’
‘Exactly.’
There was a silence. Then Clare broke it. ‘Has that car been moved yet?’
‘Not sure. Probably not.’
‘Good. Get on the phone to Vehicle Recovery. Tell them not to touch the Audi. Get SOCO up there. I want every inch of that car checked. If I’m right, someone has put Paul Sinclair’s phone in Lisa Mitchell’s car and I want to know why.’
* * *
Matt Fuller insisted on joining Clare for her interview with Val and her solicitor.
‘I think I’d like Amy in the room as well,’ Clare said.
But Amy was less keen. ‘I think she’ll clam up if I’m there. Too afraid of giving anything away. I’d say give it a go yourselves and if you can’t make anything of it, let me know and I’ll come in.’
‘Any suggestions?’ Clare asked.
‘My guess is that Val’s in a turf war with someone in Dundee, and Lisa’s been caught in the middle. If Val was moving her drugs operation into Fife and particularly up near Dundee, she’s probably stepped on someone’s toes.’
‘Who are we talking about here?’
‘All right.’ Amy pulled Clare to one side. ‘This is not for anyone else’s ears, particularly Val’s.’
‘Okay.’
‘We’ve been trying for months now to get something on a Dundee guy called Ronnie Tennant.’
Tennant! That name again. Clare racked her brains, trying to think where she had heard it.
‘He’s as slippery as hell,’ Amy was saying. ‘If you go blundering in, we’ll lose him and we really do need to take him off the streets. He’s pushing a ton of Class A and not just in Dundee.’
‘You seriously think Val won’t know that?’ Clare said
.
‘She might. She might not. But if you give the game away, she could put the word out and we’ll lose Ronnie.’
Clare looked over Amy’s shoulder. Matt was signalling that Val and her solicitor were ready.
‘Just don’t mention Ronnie,’ Amy said, her hand on Clare’s arm.
Clare waved to Matt to indicate she was coming. ‘No promises,’ she said to Amy as she walked away. ‘There’s too much at stake.’
* * *
Dermot Callaghan was sitting bolt upright in a chair, fiddling with a fountain pen while Val lounged back in her seat. He began speaking almost as soon as Clare and Matt entered the room. ‘My client has come here voluntarily, officers, but is at a loss to know how she can help.’
Clare began recording the interview with the usual preamble. Val confirmed her name and address and agreed that she had attended voluntarily. Clare cautioned Val and the interview began.
‘How do you know Lisa Mitchell?’ Clare asked.
‘Lisa Mitchell?’ Val crinkled her brow, raising her eyes to the ceiling, as if searching her memory. ‘No, doesn’t ring a bell.’
‘Ashley McCann?’
Val looked blank.
‘Let me refresh your memory. Ashley and you were jointly charged with drug offences a little over five years ago. Ashley was convicted but you were not.’
‘Oh, is that her name? I’d forgotten.’
Clare pushed a photo of Abigail across the table. ‘You’ve heard, no doubt, about this baby girl being abducted?’
Val’s expression didn’t change. ‘Aye. Terrible. Parents must be frantic.’
‘Know anything about it?’ Matt Fuller asked.
Val regarded him with interest, the hint of a smile on her lips. ‘No. Nothing.’
Clare decided to change tack. ‘You live in Edinburgh. Barnton, isn’t it?’
‘What if I do?’
‘It’s a nice area,’ Clare said. ‘Expensive.’
In Plain Sight Page 23
