‘The first time he came here he showed us a passport.’
‘How does he communicate with you?’
‘By fax: always by fax, giving us about two weeks’ notice of his arrival, and the value and types of stones which he’d like to buy. I would put an order into our purchasing department and the gems would be delivered at least two working days in advance, to give me a chance to sort and evaluate them.’
Skinner looked at Martin and raised his eyebrows. ‘Who would see that fax, Mr Rarity?’ he asked.
The manager shrugged his narrow shoulders, bouncing the padding of his Chester Barrie suit. ‘Whoever picks it off the machine. It’s located upstairs in our general office.’
‘I see, so everyone on your staff would have known that you would have a large quantity of stones on the premises today.’
‘Could have known, Mr Skinner. I can’t say honestly that everyone would have.’
‘How large a staff do you have?’
‘Seven altogether, sir. Myself, Mrs Hall, who’s my deputy, two sales assistants, a craftsman, a trainee, and a book-keeper cum secretary.’
‘And where are they now?’
‘Upstairs in the general office.’
‘All of them?’
‘All apart from Nick Williams, one of the sales assistants. He called in sick this morning.’
Skinner looked at Pringle. ‘Dan, have . . .’
The Superintendent nodded. ‘I’ve asked for a car to call at his address and bring him in, sir, unless he’s really unfit to leave the house.’
‘That’s good.’ The DCC turned towards Martin, stiff in his uniform. ‘Andy, you can see where we’re headed on this. I’d better take Kwame here back to Fettes, then I’m off to PC Brown’s funeral. Check in with me around five-thirty, would you. I ought to be back by then.’
‘Okay, Boss. See you then.’
‘Excuse me, Mr Skinner.’ The Ghanaian had a gentle smile on his face. ‘Do you think it would be possible for me to remain here for a while? This is really what I am here to study, and with respect to your fine officers, it would be more worthwhile for me to observe your detectives at work than to be shown them.’
The big policeman laughed. ‘You’ll miss a good lunch, but that’s okay by me. You hang on with Andy and Dan for as long as you like. I’ll go back and entertain your escorts, and let them catch up with you later.’
Half turned towards the door, he looked at Martin. ‘Once you’re finished here, Superintendent, I’d like you to take Mr Ankrah back to Fettes and show him our intelligence operation. After all, he must see something of our resources. When you’re there though, have them plug into Interpol and see if they can come up with anything from Russia on Mr Ivan Malenko.
‘If we can do them a favour in the course of this investigation, why not. Unless he reads British newspapers, he should still arrive here tomorrow. Maybe we should give him a proper welcome.’
32
‘How was the funeral?’
‘How are they all?’ Skinner replied to Martin, as he stepped from the Chief Constable’s ante-room having changed, thankfully, out of his uniform. His estimate of the time of his return had been over-optimistic. It was ten minutes past six o’clock. ‘Never a barrel of laughs, mate; and this one, with a young woman involved, a police officer.Well, it was as you’d expect. Just like Harry Riach’s service yesterday, the whole town was there. His widow and sons turned out, too. Poor Annie’s family were very touched by that.’
He settled into the Chief’s well-worn chair as the Head of CID sat down opposite him. ‘So what’s happened since I saw you last?’
‘Quite a bit. For openers, I’m satisfied that this is the same organisation that’s been hitting the banks, and not a spur-of-the-moment, copy-cat affair. The description of the robbers, the way they handled themselves, the type of masks they wore; everything ties in.
‘One man came up to the door, and pushed it. One of the staff took a quick look and pressed the release button, then all three came in, quickly but without a fuss. The last one in pulled down the blind covering the glass panel of the door.’
‘So does that mean that finally, we’ve got a facial description of one of these guys?’
Martin snorted. ‘When he tried the door he was wearing a Panama hat and wrap-round Oakley sunglasses, the kind cricketers use. By the time the assistant looked up from pressing the entry button, he had his mask on and he had produced a sawn-off from under his sports jacket. Sorry, the description isn’t worth a toss.’
‘How did they behave inside the shop?’
‘Efficiently as always. They rounded up the staff and laid them on the floor. Wee Rarity was shitting himself, so they left him and made Mrs Hall, his deputy, open all the display cases, then the main safe. Finally they made her show them a hidden safe in the manager’s office, built into the floor under his desk.
‘That’s where he kept the gems.’
‘When you say they made her show it, d’you mean that they knew about it in advance?’
The Head of CID nodded emphatically. ‘Absolutely. This robbery was certainly an inside job. And guess what? Mr Nick Williams, the sick sales assistant, and his girl-friend, are nowhere to be seen.
‘They share a flat up in Marchmont. Just after he called in sick, the girl . . . her name’s Arlene Regan . . . handed in the keys to the letting agency, and demanded her deposit back. Normally the agency would have inspected the place before handing any money over, but she made a hell of a fuss, and they were well in credit with the rent, so they paid up.
‘I took Ankrah up with me, and one of Pringle’s DCs, to have a look at the place. Stripped clean of clothes and personal effects, just like McDonnell’s. They are not on holiday, you can take that for sure, and since they’ve paid the rent, they haven’t done a moonlight either.’
Skinner’s frown was so deep that it was almost a snarl. ‘What do we know about this boy Williams?’
‘For a start, he’s no boy. He’s twenty-eight, and he’s worked at Raglan’s for six years. He did his training with a jeweller in Perth, where he was brought up, then moved to Edinburgh. He was in good standing with the company. In fact, Rarity told us that Mrs Hall’s due to retire in six months, and that Williams was lined up to succeed her as deputy manager.’
‘Do we have an address for his parents?’
‘Yes, the shop had that on file. His mother’s dead, but the father still lives in Perth. The Tayside CID have been asked to pay a call on him, to see if he knows anything about his son’s plans.’
‘Some chance of that,’ said the DCC, cynically. ‘He’s sure to have done a runner from us and left a forwarding address! What do we know about his personal life?’
‘He’s keen on football, according to the staff. He’s a rabid St Johnstone fan; a season ticket holder at McDermid Park. He’s also a keen cyclist. He trains with a road racing club in the city somewhere.’
‘Is he a drinker?’
‘Not as far as his colleagues know. The staff at Raglan’s aren’t the sort of people who go rushing into Ma Scott’s at closing time, but on the odd occasion when they have had a drink together, Williams has never had any more that a pint of shandy or a single glass of wine.’
The DCS grinned, broadly. ‘The girl-friend’s another matter though. Mrs Hall said that at last year’s staff Christmas do she got completely arse-over-tit. “Hidden talents, my man’s got!” she kept on shouting, even as Williams was hustling her out the door. Mrs Hall said that everyone’s looked at him in a different light since then.’
‘What does she do, then, this Arlene?’
‘None of the staff were very sure. One of them said she was a secretary in a factory office somewhere, but they didn’t know where.’
‘What about the neighbours up in Marchmont?’ asked Skinner. ‘Did you get anything out of them?’
‘We couldn’t find any.You know what those big blocks of flats can be like. Most of them are normally occupied by students
and young working people, although at this time of year a few are let out to Festival visitors. In any event, they’re usually empty during the day. Dan Pringle’s sending people back there this evening to recanvass them.’
‘Do we have a car number to go on?’
‘By now, I expect that we do. Mrs Hall says that he has a big red Volvo estate. She didn’t know the number, but I ordered a check through DVLC.’
The DCC pushed himself out of the chair and walked round the desk to the window. He looked out over the playing field, where the force Rugby Club was beginning its mid-week training session.
‘I don’t suppose Dorward’s people found anything to go on?’ he asked, but with no hope sounding in his voice. Martin sat in silence. ‘No, I didn’t expect that.
‘Do you see any pattern in this, Andy, anything at all? Because so far, I’m stuffed if I do.’
The DCS stood up to lean on the windowsill beside him. ‘There are no connections, Boss, that’s the problem. Who do we know about in this business? There’s Nathan Bennett, now deceased, Hannah, likewise, Malky McDonnell, gone, and Nick Williams, gone. If we could find something that they had in common, that’d be a start, because it might lead us to other people. But there’s nothing to be seen.’
‘So what do you do when you can’t find anything?’
Martin nodded. ‘Aye, I know. You look again. And that’s what we’re going to do; again and again, if necessary. I agree with you, there has to be a link. It’s up to us to keep looking until we find it.’
‘That’s right, and meantime, I’m stuck here in Jimmy’s office. I’m spinning as much as I reasonably can on to Jim Elder, but there are some things I just have to do myself. Tomorrow afternoon, for example, I’ve got the Chair of the Police Board coming in for her monthly coffee and biscuits. Then I’ve got a series of disciplinary matters to deal with.’ He shuddered for a second. ‘For example, there’s a PC from Broxburn who thumped his wife. She wouldn’t press charges, but the Divisional Commander isn’t letting him off with it.
‘Then I’ve got a uniformed woman sergeant from your old place, Haddington, who’s accused of sexual harassment. ’
‘You’re kidding!’
‘I wish I was. A probationer claims she groped him in a cupboard. How would Jimmy deal with that, d’you think?’
‘Awkwardly, I imagine. Who is it, anyway?’
‘Karen Neville.’
Martin’s eyes widened. ‘I remember her; a looker, late twenties. Legend has it she had her evil way with Sammy Pye at a social evening a year or so back . . . and a few others before him. I gave her a friendly warning when I was out there. I hope that she hasn’t forgotten about it, because otherwise, she’s okay.’
‘Mmm,’ said Skinner. ‘That’s useful to know.’ He turned round, and stood, leaning back against the window.
‘I take it you delivered our visitor back to his minders,’ he said.
The Head of CID grinned, and shook his head. ‘No. I wanted to talk to you about that. Kwame’s asked if he can scrap the rest of his programme and stay with us for the rest of the week.’
‘Is it okay with Scottish Office?’
‘Yes. They’re quite taken with the idea, in fact. They’ve even offered to under-write his expenses for an extra week, so that they can treat it as a sort of informal pilot secondment.’
‘Can you be bothered?’
‘Certainly. He’s a good guy.This afternoon he’s looking at videos with Pye, giving the lad’s eyes a rest. Tomorrow, I thought I’d let him sit in with Dan Pringle. If anyone needs extra help, he does.’
‘In that case,’ said the acting Chief, ‘if it’s okay with you, it’s okay with me.’
‘Good. Dan was thinking that he might take him back to Raglan’s tomorrow, to wait for this man Malenko.’
‘Oh? Did you find out anything about him?’
‘Did we ever. The Criminal Investigation people in St Petersburg reported back like a shot. Ivan Malenko . . . that’s only the name on the passport he uses to come here . . . is a very bad man indeed. He is the big man in organised crime in that part of Russia, and his activities extend through the Baltic States and into Poland and Germany. Drugs, prostitution, currency rackets, counterfeiting . . . he takes profit from them all.’
‘Why don’t they lift him then?’
‘They can’t. He’s too well protected. He has a sort of presidential guard with more firepower than all the police in St Petersburg and Moscow put together. When we told them about his trips over here, they started salivating. So did the Germans: they have an international warrant out for his arrest.
‘So the game plan is that when he turns up at Raglan’s tomorrow . . .’
‘If he turns up,’ said Skinner. ‘He may read the papers and find out their stock’s been cleared.’
‘No, we’ve told the press that yesterday’s call-out to the shop was a false alarm. The Russians have sent us over a photograph, and we know from Midland that he and a man, his minder, we’re assuming, are on their early flight from London tomorrow. When he turns up, Dan’s going to lift him, take him straight to the Sheriff Court and have him held on remand, for extradition to Germany. The minder will be put on the first plane back to Russia.’
‘Where we going to keep him? Not Saughton, I hope, after what happened to Bennett.’
‘I’ve arranged with the prison service that he’ll be kept in Shotts. Security there is as good as anywhere in Britain.’
‘Have you advised the Russian Embassy?’
‘The St Petersburg police told us not to. Malenko has people on the payroll everywhere.’
The DCC chuckled. ‘You have had a busy afternoon.’ He paused. ‘I’d tell Dan not to take Ankrah along tomorrow, if I were you. This man Malenko sounds pretty heavy duty, and he and his minder may not like being arrested. I wouldn’t like to chance our guest being hurt if trouble does start.’
‘Fair enough. Do you think I should deploy an armed unit?’
‘In the city centre? No thanks. Let’s contain the action within the shop.’
Martin nodded in agreement.
‘Is that all you have for me?’ Skinner asked him.
Martin frowned. ‘Not quite. McGuire and McIlhenney called in from Parliament House. They’ve finished their interviews, but so far they’ve drawn nothing but blanks. Tomorrow, they start to review Archergait’s history on the Bench.’ He paused. ‘I don’t think we can keep this confidential much longer, Bob. They’ve spoken to a hell of a lot of people now. This “security review” cover’s wearing thin.’
‘I appreciate that. Look, let’s try a bit of news management tomorrow. When we announce that we’ve lifted Malenko, then spill the beans about the size of the Raglan’s robbery, the entire media corps will go completely fucking crazy. While they’re chasing their tails, let’s have Alan Royston slip out a quiet statement that we’re treating the judge’s death as suspicious.’
With their backs to the door, which Martin had left slightly open as he entered, neither had seen the woman, nor had they heard her faint knock.
‘I don’t know if you’ll be able to do that, sir,’ said Maggie Rose. Both men, surprised, turned to face her. ‘I had a call from Detective Superintendent Mackie on my mobile ten minutes ago, while I was on my way home. He was calling from a crime scene in East Lothian, and asked me to find you and Mr Martin.
‘Apparently a bird-watcher found a body this afternoon, out on Aberlady Nature Reserve.
‘I’m afraid we’ve got another dead judge on our hands . . . and this time the press are all over the place.’
As Skinner looked at his Head of CID, a slow smile of disbelief spread across his face. ‘If I believed in curses, I might think that this was all aimed at me, on my first day as acting Chief.
‘Come on, you two. Let’s get out there and take a look for ourselves.’
DCI Rose looked up at him. ‘You may have to wait a bit for that, sir. From what Brian said, I think the tide may beat us t
o it.’
33
It was a clear and cloudless night. Although the midnight sun still cast its aura along the northern horizon, Aberlady Bay was bathed in moonlight as the convoy, led by the Ranger’s Land Rover truck, made its way along the track which crossed Luffness golf course, towards the Nature Reserve.
The silver light glistened on the wide expanse of water, and on the wilderness upon which thousands of birds were settled for the night. With Skinner, Sarah, Martin, Brian Mackie and Maggie Rose in the passenger seats of the long wheelbase vehicle, the Ranger drove slowly, for fear of scaring up the great flocks of geese to which the Reserve offered safe haven.
Occasionally, a family of rabbits would start in the headlight beam, then disappear towards the many entrances to their warren, their night world disturbed.
Another Land Rover in police livery followed, and behind that, a yellow tractor, with a battery of lights arrayed on a bar above its cab. The line of vehicles was completed by a third off-roader, a deep blue shadow in the night. It carried no markings, but it was distinguished from the rest by a revolving ventilator cap in its roof.
‘It’s a wonderland, isn’t it,’ whispered Sarah, as if even within the cab she might disturb the bird population. ‘And to think it’s within walking distance of our doorstep.’
‘Sure,’ said Bob, ‘but you wouldn’t come here on foot at two o’clock in the morning. The terrain’s rough, and even with a torch there are plenty of ways to break an ankle.’
He looked over his shoulder, at Mackie. ‘What did you do with the press, Brian?’
‘I’ve gathered them together on the beach, sir, with three uniformed officers to keep an eye on them. The Assistant Ranger’s there as well. They all wanted to hang on for the next low tide, and as it’s a public place, I’d have had trouble ordering them to leave.
‘We’d only been there for a couple of minutes before the first group arrived. After that they began to descend like those geese at nightfall. Fortunately, no one’s been too close yet. We’ll have photos in tomorrow’s papers, I’m sure, but there’ll be no more detail than we saw on the late television news tonight.’
08 - Murmuring the Judges Page 15
