He nodded vigorously. ‘Of course, Inspector. And if I can help…’
‘Actually, you can, Lyall. I asked the DCI earlier today to try and find a two-bedroomed flat for rent. Somewhere in Fife. But the DCI – well, he gets distracted sometimes. Would you mind seeing what you can find? Private lets only and not silly money, either. Reasonable rent.’
‘Anything to help, Inspector.’ And he went to find a spare computer.
Lyall dealt with, Clare turned back to Sara. ‘Can you also get the registration numbers for the Tennants’ vehicles out to other forces and to traffic control rooms? See if any of them have pinged ANPR cameras in the past couple of days.’
Clare began leafing through the printouts. ‘Sara, any photos of the Tennants?’
‘Yeah. I’ve printed a couple off the internet. Nothing official. They’ve been interviewed a few times but never been charged with any offences.’
Clare put the folder down on the desk and spread out the pages. She retrieved the photo of Ronnie Tennant – quite clearly the man from the pub CCTV. And then she looked at Margo. Margo, who had red hair. The same red hair as the woman who had taken the digoxin from the pharmacy. They had to find her.
‘If I find you,’ Clare said to the photo, ‘I find Abi.’
* * *
It was Matt who reminded Clare they still had Danny in an interview room.
‘Dammit, I forgot him.’
‘We can’t release him,’ Amy said. ‘If it gets out that we’re after Ronnie Tennant, God knows what’ll happen out there. You’d better keep him here for his own safety.’
‘I’ll arrest him then,’ Clare said. ‘At least we’ll be able to keep him a bit longer.’
‘What if we don’t find Ronnie in the next twenty-four hours?’ Chris asked.
‘Frankly, Chris, I’d rather not think about that.’
* * *
It was almost five o’clock when Clare received the go-ahead to bring Kevin across to Dundee to identify Lisa. They entered the viewing room, Kevin hanging back.
Clare guided him gently forward, her hand on his shoulder. ‘Take all the time you need, Kevin. Just tell us when you’re ready.’
He looked at the glass panel in front of him, then back at Clare. ‘Is this it? I can’t see her properly.’
‘I’m sorry, Kevin. It has to be this way.’
He turned back to the glass. After a moment or two he said, ‘Okay.’
Clare signalled to the attendant who lifted back the cover. She was relieved to see Lisa’s face, although unnaturally white and waxy, was unmarked. The trauma that had befallen her remained hidden beneath the sheet.
She let Kevin look then, after a minute, said, ‘Kevin, is this your wife, Lisa Mitchell?’
Kevin’s head went forward until it rested on the glass. Clare saw silent tears falling onto the floor below.
‘Kevin?’
Kevin stepped back and raised his head. He wiped his eyes with his sleeve and nodded.
‘You’re quite sure?’ Clare asked again. ‘This is Lisa?’
‘Yes.’ His voice was a whisper. ‘That’s my Lisa.’
As they left the room, Kevin said, ‘When can I see her? Properly, I mean?’
‘I can’t give you a time, Kevin, but I’ll do my very best.’
‘What’s Abi going to do without her mum?’
Abi. Missing for over a hundred hours now. As they walked back to the car, Clare wished she shared Kevin’s faith that Abi would be found alive and well.
Chapter 28
To Clare’s astonishment, Tony had found a flat for Susan Clancy.
‘It’s a block near the harbour. Scheduled for demolition in the next couple of years so the agents aren’t keen to move too many new folk in.’
‘I’m impressed, Tony,’ Clare said. Then she saw Lyall out of the corner of her eye. ‘Tell me the truth – did you find it all by yourself?’
‘Of course I did.’
‘You’re a dreadful liar, DCI McAvettie. You owe Lyall a drink.’
‘Ach, it’s kept him busy.’
‘When can she move in?’
He jangled a set of keys. ‘Any time she likes.’
Clare took the keys and went into one of the interview rooms, closing the door. She took out her own mobile phone and dialled a number.
‘Clare,’ Geoffrey said. ‘Lovely to hear your voice. How’s things?’
‘Oh, you know. It’s a pretty grim case, Geoff. I’m phoning to ask a favour, actually.’
‘Go on.’
‘Doing anything tonight?’
* * *
Geoffrey was waiting by a white Luton van in one of the Dundee University car parks when Clare and Chris arrived in Chris’s car. It was almost eight o’clock and the sun had set, casting a rosy glow in the sky to the west.
‘You know I’ll probably get the sack if they find out I’m using a university van, don’t you?’
Clare squeezed his arm. ‘I appreciate it, Geoff. Oh, Geoffrey, Chris; Chris, Geoffrey.’
The two men exchanged smiles, then Geoffrey unlocked the van and they all piled in. ‘Tell me again where we’re going?’
Clare gave him directions to Alderwood and within ten minutes they were pulling into Susan Clancy’s street. She was waiting at the window and stepped back when she knew they had seen her.
‘You two stay here,’ Clare said to Chris and Geoff. ‘And switch the lights off. We don’t want to attract attention.’
She climbed the stairs to Susan’s flat and tapped on the door. Susan opened it and Clare could see the hall was full of bags.
‘All set?’ she said.
Susan nodded.
‘Okay, I want you to stay inside and out of sight until the last minute. I’ve two men with me and they’ll carry your stuff out to the van. If anyone asks what they’re doing, they know what to say. Once the van’s loaded, you can come out, hood up, head down, and we’ll get you away from here.’
‘Cheers, Inspector. I really appreciate it.’ Susan looked round her flat and shook her head. ‘I worked so hard on this, ye know. But what’s the point if Paige is growing up surrounded by the likes of Ronnie Tennant?’
‘You’re doing the right thing,’ Clare told her. ‘Now you stay here and I’ll send the boys up.’
Clare waited with the van while Chris and Geoffrey carried out Susan’s bits and pieces. She didn’t have much furniture, apart from the cot and a couple of bookcases, but there were at least half a dozen black bags and as many boxes. A couple of lads sauntered up. Clare pulled her beanie hat down as far as it would go. She leaned against the side of the van and folded her arms.
‘Hey missus,’ one of the lads called. ‘You doing a moonlight flit?’
‘Fuck off,’ Clare said in what she hoped would pass for a Dundee accent.
‘Only askin’,’ the lad said. ‘Keep yer wig on.’
Chris and Geoffrey came out carrying boxes and the lads stopped to watch, grinning.
‘Beat it,’ Chris growled, and the lads laughed and carried on up the road.
The other one called back, ‘Shuda paid the bills, missus!’
The shouting had attracted some attention and a few figures appeared at windows.
‘Are you nearly done?’ Clare asked. ‘We need to get out of here.’
‘Yeah. One more trip,’ Chris said.
Minutes later, the van was loaded and Clare beckoned Susan out. She climbed up, squeezing alongside the others on the bench seat, and Geoffrey roared away.
‘Cheers for this,’ Susan said, and he smiled in response.
‘Like your Dundee accent,’ Chris said to Clare.
‘Better than yours.’
‘You’re both rubbish,’ Susan said. ‘I’ll teach you…’
* * *
At the university car park, Geoffrey stopped to let Chris pick up his car.
‘Follow us across,’ Clare said, and Chris gave her a thumbs-up.
They waited while Chris started the en
gine then they were on their way once more, driving down towards the Tay Road Bridge.
‘What’s the flat like?’ Susan asked, and Clare said that she’d not seen it herself. Susan made no reply to this. Then, as they crossed the bridge and entered Fife, she said, ‘It’s good of you – doing all this.’
‘As long as you keep your side of the bargain,’ Clare said.
Geoffrey glanced sideways at Clare but she didn’t respond.
The street was quiet when they pulled up outside Susan’s new home. Geoffrey bumped the van onto the pavement and Chris drew up behind. Clare produced the keys and she led Susan inside. The flat was basic and in need of decoration but it was clean. There were faded velvet curtains in the sitting room window, and Susan moved quickly to draw them closed. She walked through the rooms, examining them with a studied eye, issuing instructions to Chris and Geoffrey as they carried in her belongings.
‘Cot on that wall, please,’ she said, as she put two black bin bags in the foot of an old wardrobe.
‘The furniture’s basic,’ Clare said, ‘but once you get on your feet you might be able to pick up a few bits and pieces of your own. There’s a great second-hand furniture warehouse just out of town. I think they even deliver.’
Susan turned to face Clare. ‘Inspector, I’d sleep on bare boards if I had to. You’ve no idea what it means to me to get away from that place.’
Clare reached into her trouser pocket and took out a twenty-pound note. ‘For bread and milk.’
Susan stared at the note and seemed about to refuse.
‘Take it,’ Clare urged her. ‘If it bothers you, pay me back when you’re earning.’
Susan closed her hand around the note. ‘Thanks, Inspector. Appreciate it.’
‘And now we’ll leave you to sort things out. Sleep well, and I’ll send someone across to pick you up tomorrow. But wait until you hear from me. Meantime, if anyone knocks on the door, don’t answer it.’ She looked at Susan intently. ‘We need that statement.’
* * *
Outside, Chris said good night and reversed his car back down the narrow street. Clare watched him go then smiled at Geoffrey. ‘Want to stay over at Daisy Cottage?’
He shook his head. ‘I’d better get this van back tonight and you need to get to bed.’
‘Of course. Geoff, thanks so much. I know it was an awful lot to ask.’
He put his arms round her and pulled her in. ‘You’ve a good heart, Clare Mackay. That’s why I love you.’
She held him to her and whispered, ‘And I love you too, Geoffrey Dark. Very much.’
‘Come on,’ he said. ‘I’ll take you home and you can make me a cup of tea before I head back.’
Clare climbed back up into the van, empty now of Susan’s possessions, and slammed the door. Geoffrey backed the van out of the street, more carefully than Chris had, and pulled away into the night.
Friday, 27 September
Chapter 29
Clare arrived on Friday morning hopeful there might have been some news overnight.
Jim had already spoken to the night shift. ‘Nothing much, Clare, except that Ronnie Tennant’s BMW pinged a camera heading over the bridge to Fife.’
‘Ronnie’s in Fife?’
‘Looks like it. There’s been nothing since he crossed the bridge so either he’s taken the back roads, or he’s in the area.’
Clare’s thoughts went immediately to Susan Clancy. She took out her phone and sent a quick text.
All ok?
Will send a car in the next hour.
Clare
Susan replied saying she was fine and would be ready for the car. Clare breathed a sigh of relief. There was no way Ronnie Tennant could know where Susan had moved to. Unless Lyall…
The door opened and the man himself entered.
‘Lyall, a word, please.’
Lyall frowned. ‘Have I done something wrong, Inspector?’
Clare took Lyall into an interview room. ‘Sit.’
He did as he was told.
She studied his face. He seemed uneasy and shifted in his seat.
‘Lyall, I trusted you with a job yesterday. To look for a flat. You remember?’
‘Yes, I remember. Was the one I found not suitable? The DCI thought it was fine.’
‘And it was. But Lyall, what I need to know is this: did you tell anyone about the flat? Anyone at home or any of your journalist friends?’
Lyall shook his head. ‘Certainly not. Inspector, I have a privileged position here. I wouldn’t dream of abusing it.’
Clare regarded him. ‘I hope not. If any harm comes to the tenant of that flat because you let slip where she’s living…’
Lyall looked close to tears now.
Clare relented. ‘Okay, Lyall. Sorry, but I had to ask. Go and grab yourself a coffee.’
Clare sat in the interview room, thinking. She was as sure as she could be that Lyall was telling the truth. She honestly couldn’t see him in the pocket of someone like Ronnie Tennant. So what was Ronnie doing in Fife? Was he going after Val? Or even Kevin? She moved to the door and motioned Jim to come into the room.
‘Jim, I don’t want a fuss about this, but I’d like a couple of lads each on Val Docherty’s flat in Newport and Kevin Mitchell’s house.’ She reached for a scrap of paper and scribbled down Susan Clancy’s new address. ‘And I’d like two undercover cops watching this property round the clock. Anything remotely suspicious, I want to know immediately.’
Jim’s eyes widened. ‘Something up, Clare?’
‘Ronnie Tennant, Jim. That’s what.’
Chris appeared.
‘Don’t take off your jacket,’ Clare told him. ‘We’re going to pick up Susan Clancy. I want her statement done and dusted.’
* * *
Clare sent Susan another text telling her she was on her way and not to come out of her flat until she saw Clare’s car outside. Five minutes later, she was safely stowed in the back of the car, heading back to the station. When they arrived, Amy was there and Clare invited her to sit in on Susan’s interview.
Clare went through the usual preamble and the interview began. She had asked Sara to assemble a set of photos of men around Ronnie’s age to mix in with Ronnie’s own photo.
Susan picked him out easily.
‘That’s him,’ she said. ‘Know him anywhere.’
She also picked out Margo from a selection of middle-aged women with red hair.
Clare asked her how she knew Ronnie.
‘Everyone knows him. Everyone in Alderwood, anyway. Hangs about the pubs and shops. He owns a few houses there. Some folk had bought their council flats and run up huge debts with Ronnie. Borrowed money and couldn’t afford the interest. So he took the houses. Signed over, all legal and that.’
‘Does he collect the money personally?’
Susan shook her head. ‘He has lads to do that for him. The one who took the baby, I saw him on the news. Paul Sinclair. He was one of Ronnie’s boys. One of the many.’
‘Give me names.’ Clare wrote steadily as Susan reeled off the names of people who worked for Ronnie. And then she asked, ‘Is Ronnie involved in any other illegal activities?’
‘Yeah. Drugs. He brings them in and his lads sell them across the town.’
‘Do you know where he keeps them?’ Clare asked.
Susan nodded. ‘In the flats he owns. Has the tenants scared shitless. If the police come round, it’s their names on the lease and they’re the ones who’ll go to jail. He has a couple of shops too. The managers don’t even know where he’s stashed the drugs. But if the police search the place, it’s the managers who’ll take the rap for it.’
Amy leaned forward. ‘Susan, how do you know all this?’
‘I pay attention,’ she said. ‘I worked in one of Ronnie’s pubs for a while. Ronnie and Margo – they don’t allow staff to drink while they’re working and I have sharp ears. Punters come in and they drink. They drink and they start to talk. And mostly it doesn’t matt
er ’cause they’re all drinking and talking. They forget about me. I’m invisible. I like it that way. But I hear stuff. And I remember it.’
Clare hesitated, wondering how to phrase her next question. ‘Susan, I need to ask you about your daughter.’
Susan wouldn’t meet Clare’s eye. She began to fiddle with the cuff of her sweatshirt. ‘Yeah?’
‘Can you tell us why Paige was taken into care?’
Susan swallowed then cleared her throat. ‘That was Ronnie.’ Her voice was hoarse. ‘Can I…?’
‘Would you like a drink of water?’
‘Please.’
Amy rose, returning a minute later with a plastic cup of water.
Susan took it and drank. Then she set the cup down and continued: ‘It was when I was working in one of Ronnie’s pubs. We had a lock-in one night. After hours. Used to happen quite often. Anyway, the drink was flowing and then Ronnie passed round some pills. Everyone else was taking them so I thought why not.’ She raised her eyes and looked from Clare to Amy. ‘If you’ve never done it, you can’t imagine what it’s like. The first time especially. Fucking brilliant. And so the next night he passed them out again. But after that he said I had to pay. Said he’d make it easy for me. He’d give me the pills and stop it out of my wages.’ Susan lifted the cup and drank again. ‘And then it became a habit. Pills, coke and eventually heroin. Then Ronnie – he said he didn’t want me working there any more. So I went on benefits and he took that too. There was no money for Paige. The health visitor was calling, but I wouldn’t let her in. Eventually, when they took her – well, I was past caring, wasn’t I? I just wanted the drugs. She was better off without me.’
Clare looked at Susan. Her face was devoid of emotion. She had told this dreadful tale without shedding a tear. Was that what it did to you? Being controlled by a man like Ronnie Tennant?
In Plain Sight Page 26
