‘Or he knocked the bottle over and suddenly made a grab for it and tumbled and got entangled in his frame,’ Dunbar offered.
SO Barrie lit him up as he focussed on him, forcing Dunbar to dip his gaze. ‘Aye, plausible enough, yeah, that – that would have created a reservoir of accelerant for him to fall into,’ he replied, as he re-enacted Dunbar’s suggested scenario in slow motion. ‘Reaching across himself with his left hand cos’ he had his glass in his right, hooks the frame, drags it over and falls – I like it, Chief Inspect – errrr?’
‘Dunbar.’
‘I don’t,’ Tyler said, as she crouched to examine the walking frame. ‘It’s been cut. Is this lying where it was found?’ she asked. Dunbar recognised the look on her face. It was the face of a copper who knew, or at least suspected something wasn’t right.
‘Nae, it was cut it off him in the hearth. He was wearin’ it, over his arm and head.’
‘I don’t think it was an accident.’
The fire investigator gasped. ‘Trust me, love –’
‘Inspector!’ she snapped back.
He made a pretence at an apology that amounted to little more than a half-hearted shrug. ‘How I described it, or yer boss here did, is how it happened – Inspector.’
‘Go on, Briony,’ Dunbar encouraged.
She fixed SO Barrie sternly. ‘Only yesterday morning, Wilson Farish told me that he never put his walking frame beside the fire. It would get too hot to touch.’
SO Barrie’s eyes widened and he glanced at Dunbar.
‘I didn’t accompany the inspector yesterday,’ Dunbar explained.
‘I think he was struck with it,’ she continued, then demonstrated. ‘He tried to stand put his arm up to parry the blow – it went over his arm and head. It wedged over his body, in the position your colleagues found it. He then fell into the fireplace and his attacker poured the brandy over him.’
SO Barrie did not appear convinced by her argument.
‘He told me that his carer once burnt her hand on his Zimmer frame after he had left it beside the fire. For that reason, he never left it there again. Mr Farish always hung his walking stick on the rear of his armchair when he used the frame. He would place the frame behind the chair upon returning and use the stick, which I note is still in situ, and the chair’s arm for support.’ Tyler looked around and pointed towards his charred walking stick lying in the grime between the fire-grate and chair. ‘Whoever tried to make this look like an accident obviously did a pretty good job, but they didn’t know his routine.’
Station Officer Barrie cleared his throat. ‘Is that it!? Because his stick is where it should be and his frame isn’t, you suspect foul play?’
‘Yes! Getting entangled does make it appear accidental – but that was the killer’s mistake. His death was deliberate and the method probably unplanned. Farish was struck with the Zimmer frame, fell across his hearth and couldn’t get up. The killer improvised and seized their opportunity to make sure he went up in flames by pouring the brandy over him. This was no accident.’ Tyler eyed Dunbar, who indicated that she should continue with another bob of his head. ‘That! – And the fact that we’re investigating a double homicide which, through our enquires, we have linked to the deceased, Wilson Farish.’ Suddenly SO Barrie’s jaw slackened.
‘Who reported the fire?’ Dunbar asked.
SO Barrie seemed suddenly flustered. ‘Errm, an elderly neighbour, next door, she tried to help but the heat and smoke beat her back. He was well ablaze by then, mind. Bless her, she had a go. Got some nasty burns to her hands, poor old love. The hospital kept her in, not so much because of her burns but – well, it was a dreadful shock for her.’
‘I can imagine. What time last night did this happen?’
‘We received the treble nine call at 21:37 hours,’ he answered, checking his notes.
‘What made her look in? It’s a terrace, was she passing the window?’ Tyler asked.
‘I presume so. I don’t know. I haven’t spoken to her yet.’
‘I’d like a copy of your report. I’m particularly interested in the accelerant. For instance, was the alcohol used to mask another inflammable liquid?’ Dunbar said, handing him his card.
‘If that bottle had enough in it – it wouldn’t need any help.’
‘I’m not ruling this fire in or out of our enquiry at this stage. Do you understand, Station Officer Barrie?’ Dunbar added, with emphasis to the man’s rank.
Tyler smirked. It was not subtle but she appreciated it even if SO Barrie did not. Not mate, not pal and definitely not love! Dunbar had shown due respect to SO Barrie. Just as SO Barrie should have done, when addressing her.
‘Of course, but I won’t get the results of any residue and chemical analysis back overnight. As soon as I have anything, you’ll be the first to know, Chief Inspector Dunbar.’
‘Where’s the body?’
SO Barrie consulted his notes again. ‘McAleavey’s undertakers in Newstead. The infirmary’s morgue was full. But they won’t do anything with him until the post mortem and I suppose –’
‘No they won’t,’ Dunbar cut in. He checked his watch and hissed. ‘Too late now. We’ll get the body moved to the path lab at Edinburgh in the morning. Our forensic pathologist will be doing the PM.’
‘Sorry, are you asking me to –’ SO Barrie began.
‘Thinking out loud,’ Dunbar replied. ‘No, we’ll take it from here, and the neighbour?’
‘Borders General, Galashiels.’
Dunbar turned to Tyler. ‘Get on the blower and get Eugene down here ASAP. Tell him tonight would be good.’ She nodded and headed for the door. He turned back to SO Barrie. ‘Her name?’
SO Barrie consulted his notes yet again. ‘Err, Mrs– Sarah Dodds.’
‘Can you secure the scene until I get a uniform here?’
SO Barrie shrugged. ‘Yeah sure. I’ve a bit to do yet.’
‘Good. Can you mark out the approach path from front door to where Farish was found, and tell our officer not to enter? Oh, and try not to disturb anything else.’
‘I – I suppose. What about my investigation?’
‘Invaluable, Mr Barrie. You’re the expert where the cause of the fire is concerned.’ Dunbar checked his watch again. ‘And your report?’
‘I’ll email a copy up to Fettes Ave as soon as I have it typed up.’
‘No, we’re not working out of HQ. Send it to the email address on my card.’ Dunbar wheeled about and marched out, his mind racing.
‘A very grumpy Eugene, plus two en route. I said you’d authorise the OT,’ Tyler said, as they got back into the car.
‘Good shout in there, Briony. If this is the work of the killer, we know he’s not far away. That should make it easier to catch the bastard.’
She glanced at him. Was he being sincere or patronising her? Dunbar remained fixed on the road ahead, a study in concentration. Either way he was right, and after all, he had gently slapped the cocky Station Officer down for calling her “love”. She decided to give him the benefit of the doubt – he was being sincere.
‘Bit of a coincidence if it isn’t, and the MO doesn’t fit the bill,’ she eventually said.
‘Immolation? If this has anything to do with Obag’s Holm – fire played its part. The supposedly righteous, God-fearing but obviously sadistic militiamen tied Morag up in chains. Then, after making her watch her people tortured and executed, forced her to walk back and forth over hot stones on a bed of smouldering peat. Each time she fell, they’d drag her up and make her do it again, until she could walk nae more.’ Tyler looked stunned. ‘Aye, I’ve been swotting up on it too. Then the bastards fastened her to a stone gate-post and built a pyre of green wood around her, so that she’d burn slowly – a taste o’ purgatory to come. To be sure she suffered, they damped it down with water from the wee burn every so often, to exact every nanosecond of exquisite agony out of the – “base and vile witch.”
‘And that was their idea of God’s
work?’ Tyler gasped.
He nodded and continued, ‘Aye, and before the fire got too good a hold on her they put it out and took her head off. Her fire-blackened head with its locks all but singed off, and those of her kin, were mounted on spits across the Eastern Marches as a warning to others.’
‘I hadn’t got to that bit. And the headless skeletons the Professor’s team are finding?’
‘Who knows, chances are some will be Inglis clansmen and women. Some victims of theirs too I imagine. That’s for the folk combo to figure out.’
‘Who?’
‘Shelagh and Sebastian,’ he answered, with a broad grin.
‘Hang on – you don’t have a copy of –’
‘Took a peek at Archie’s website. He’s switched-on enough to put the sensational and salacious stuff up front and centre.’
‘Maybe that’s where the killer got their inspiration from.’
***
Dunbar had never got used to the clunky syntax of witness statements. The style, adopted by almost every police officer the length and breadth of Britain, is born of the requirement to accurately reflect the words spoken by a witness. Many a case has collapsed because some ‘well-meaning’ copper injected eloquence into a witness’s version of events, who, when called to give evidence in court, had been revealed, under cross-examination, as barely able to string a sentence together. At least Sarah Dodds statement read as if it came from her own lips. An officer from Galashiels Rural Policing Team, who had attended the fire, had already recorded it by the time Dunbar and Tyler arrived at the hospital to question the witness. He was impressed that PC1023 Carol Kirkman had eked as much detail from Mrs Dodds as she had. At the time the young constable recorded the lady’s statement, it had seemed a cut and dried case of a domestic accident and yet – she had been quite meticulous! The statement was not only a testament to the case, but to PC Kirkman’s cognitive interview technique. All the same, he lived in hope that one day he would get to read a statement taken from a poet laureate or someone similarly gifted with words. Despite the jarring content, he read through Mrs Dodds statement for a third time since getting back to the office.
Witness Statement of Sarah Dodds, bn: 24/8/46
12 Spinney Lane, Spinney Burn, East Lothian.
On Tuesday the 28th May 2013 at around 9.25pm, I was sitting in my front parlour when I heard my neighbour’s door slam. Walter Farish, my neighbour hardly ever goes out at all and never goes out at night, especially on account of his legs. Wilson has very bad hip joints and was waiting for a hip replacement operation. He walks using a walking frame and he disnae receive many visitors, he’s a very private man. I thought it strange when I heard his door slam so I went to the window where I saw a man and a woman who appeared to be arguing. He seemed to be trying to get the woman into his car. I think he had a beard or it might have just been shadow. He had his hood up and his coat fastened right up. I do not know the make of the car but in the street light it looked pale blue or silver in colour and it was an estate car but it wasn’t a four-by-four. The man was of a medium build. My late husband was five feet nine inches tall and I would say that the man was around the same height as him give or take an inch. He wore a dark three quarter length Parka or duffle coat but not one of those with artificial fur around the hood. The woman who was shorter than him, and again of medium build ,also in dark clothing but not black and had the hood of her jacket up and it was like she had a lot of layers on. She also wore grey denim jeans and what looked like walking boots. The woman seemed angry with him and reluctant to get into his car but although I say that the man was pulling her, I didn’t get the impression he was being violent towards her or meant her any harm. It was more like he was trying to coax her to get in but she seemed to want to go back across the road to our terrace. I would not recognise either of these people if I saw them again because I never saw their faces. Eventually, they both got into the car and he drove off but he didn’t put his lights on right away, which also struck me as odd. That’s why I decided to pop around and see that Wilson was all right. I have a key for emergencies so that he disnae have to get up to let me in. His curtains were drawn and I thought he must have had his fire banked up too high because you could see that the whole room was glowing. I let myself in and straightaway smelt burning, I rushed into his parlour and saw him lying in the hearth. He was on fire. I did not see him move. I think he may have already been dead or at least unconscious. I tried to pull at his feet to drag him away but he was tangled in his frame and I burnt my hands. The heat and black smoke became unbearable. There was nothing I could do, so I hurried back to my house and dialled 999. I don’t understand why his frame was like that, he keeps it away from the fire usually. I’ve never known him do that since his carer burnt her hands on it when she went to move it after he left it there once. I did not see those two people leave Wilson’s house so I cannot say for sure that they had anything to do with the fire but they were directly across the street only seconds after I heard his door slam.
Recorded by: Carol Kirkman PC 1023Signed: Sarah Dodds
***
Why do people never take note of car registration numbers when they witness an incident that involves a car? All right, some do but they are few and far between. Hell! He knew any number of police officers who had failed that simple evidence-gathering test – and they are supposed to be trained observers. Though it lacked crucial detail, her statement was tantalising, but as is often the way, it failed to bring them one step closer to solving the case. In fact it raised more questions than it answered.
Who were they? Was it the killer? Was the woman trying to go back in to help Wilson Farish? Why did Sarah Dodds not mention these two people to the fire crew? Shock or that natural unwillingness many people have not to accuse anyone, for fear of being wrong? Maybe it was the carer and her husband, partner, boyfriend or whoever having a bit of a tiff after a late night visit to her client. The frustration of a statement such as this is: they generate hours of enquiries that ultimately achieve nothing. Chances were that it was just an innocent couple having a minor domestic row. He pressed a post-it note on to the statement: must trace and interview Farish’s carer.
***
Tyler tapped on his door. ‘I’m heading off now, sir. See you in the morning.’
‘Okay. Hey! Fancy coming to Farish’s post mortem tomorrow?’
‘Ooow, Chief Inspector. You really know how to spoil a girl. Watching a flambéed paedophile get sliced and diced. Can’t think of a lovelier way to start the day. Sure, why not?’ She gave him a tired lopsided smile. ‘Oh, and I’ve sent an email to Galashiels asking the inspector to pass on my – our appreciation to PC Kirkman.’
‘For doing her job?’ he asked, eyeing her curiously.
‘Nobody but me knew that the position of the walking frame could be relevant, but she had the presence of mind to include it in the statement.’
He conceded the point with a pout and reluctant shrug.
‘We’d have needed another statement if she hadn’t. And extra-evidential statements, even when recorded to clear up a point of potential dispute, always get defence lawyers’ juices flowing. Why was it not included in the body of the primary statement? Did you record a second statement in the interests of justice, or simply to shore up your version of events, officer? PC Kirkman might just well have saved us a sticky moment in the witness stand down the road, sir.’
‘Fine!’ he yielded, raising his hands in mock surrender. ‘Give the girl a gold star. Goodnight, Briony.’
She had no sooner gone than DS Conroy appeared. He glanced over his shoulder and nodded in Tyler’s direction. ‘How’s she shapin’ up, boss?’
‘Is that a loaded question, Neil?’
Conroy shook his head. ‘Away, mon – her shape speaks for itself. Is she holding her own out there?’
‘Aye, she’s – she’s doing all right. Focussed but not blinkered, doesn’t miss much – anything really. She’s keen – hell, she’s already at
the advanced disclosure phase.’
‘What?’
‘Nothin’ – just – nothin’, ignore me. She’s bright, but we already knew that, and sharp with it. For a DI that hasn’t ever really been on the CID and for an officer that has spent more time studying the job than doing it, she shows promise.’ Dunbar glared at Conroy. ‘But don’t you dare tell her I said so.’ Conroy grinned, then made a zipping motion across his lips. ‘What’s the buzz around the office about her like?’ Conroy’s face cracked into a wicked grin. ‘Apart from the obvious.’
‘She’s fitted in well, pulls her weight. Falk likes her and by that I don’t mean, fancies her – which he probably does, Jesus, we all do I suppose, but, well, that more or less means everyone thinks she’s okay. Where Falk leads –’ Conroy did not need to finish the sentence.
‘Aye – good! Anyway, isn’t it about time you went home?’
‘Unless you’ve got any last minute –’
‘No, I’ll be off in a moment or two as well,’ Dunbar said, as he guided his cursor to the ‘shut down’ icon. ‘Taking her to see Donnie Salkeld in the morning – well, provided Wilson Farish’s body has been moved to his lab first thing, as I instructed.’
Conroy’s eyes widened. ‘Have you warned her about Stella the Fella?’
Dunbar shook his head. ‘The DI is a very modern woman, Neil – that much, she has made quite clear. I’m sure she’ll take Stella just as she finds her.’
‘I’d be more worried about Stella taking Briony over the bloody gurney. You’ve gotta wonder, boss. Is she a lass goin’ through gender realignment or the other way aboot?’
‘I prefer not to speculate. And I’m too much of a coward to ask. Stella’s likely to drop her breeks and show you.’
A Deviant Breed (DCI Alec Dunbar series) Page 14
