Cause & Effect (The Gemini Borders Trilogy Book 3)

by Toni Parks

  “Good questions. Right, I think we’ve enough to be getting on with. Let’s split these up and get to work. Those of you on the early morning start can take the inside tasks. I’m particularly interested in having the audio and video links analysed. Can we have a stab at any of the missing words? And does anybody have a clue as to how we take that bloody thing down off the Internet?”

  The team broke up and discipline motivated the detectives to seek out the questions most suited to their talents. Everything needed answering but not everyone had the same abilities to get to the truth. A simple enough precept but when the video had gone viral with over a million hits, sifting the truth from the chaff was going to prove significantly more difficult than first thought.

  *

  Far from being annoyed Calum McLaughlin of Hunter-Bell Construction was quite matter of fact, sanguine actually, ‘Well once a traitor always a traitor!’ he thought to himself. ‘What did he expect the repercussions to be if he got caught?’ and aloud he addressed those few assembled. “Having one of our builds plastered all over the Internet, and no doubt national and local media too, as a murder scene is going to cause no end of disruption for Hunter-Bell. All that police tape is going to prevent our workers getting onto the site and on with their jobs.”

  “Yeh, it’s turned it into a ‘no-go’ picket line,” commented one of the chosen few.

  “More like a no-go piggy line, wouldn’t you say?” Came back a quick retort.

  “Enough,” continued Calum. “I haven’t got you together just to make jokes, although I have to admit, that killing did show a certain amount of panache, by way of planning and execution; if you get my drift.” Here he paused for halfhearted laughter, then continued, “The author of the crime certainly knows his way around product design, in fact he’s quite skilful at it. Obviously a comic too, I mean who would have expected that ‘drinking bird’ old chestnut? But maybe the cold snap even caught him out. Joey would have probably lived longer without it and possibly spilled even more beans in the process. But as you know tardiness is not one of my virtues, so for that reason alone I’m eager to make a quick response. Our strength is in our swift retribution, an eye for an eye. Now that they’ve raised the bar we’ll have to think a little out of the box in return. The killer’s not the only one who can be innovative. And anyway when you closely consider their actions they’ve actually murdered one of their own. At least that’s what he started out as, before we turned him. The only regret I have with the loss is that Joey’s not going to be feeding us with any more of Lucisano’s insider information. Well, that and the fact that we don’t know what he’d revealed about us before he took to drink.”

  This time as expected those assembled laughed heartily at the joke, knowing that a hearty laugh ensured continual good health. “OK, Brody. I’m nominating you for the tit for tat and this is what I’ve got in mind.” Taking him aside, Calum explained his thoughts and expressed his desire for its execution before the day was done. Carte blanche usage of resources and men went without saying but time was not as free a commodity.

  As with their own company, their competitors Lucisano’s Build & Real Estate was also known to include killers and lesser criminals, so the choice of victim was a simple matter of abducting any one of their employees. Random as it was, a message would be sent out and the chosen bringer of that message would end up losing his life. As potluck had it Bill Duncan was the one picked out to die. Bill, a forty-year old father of three, a bricklayer, a petty crook, a grass and most unfortunately for him an employee of Lucisano’s. Luck certainly had shone on him initially when he had been one of the chosen few nominated to infiltrate the bars usually frequented by Hunter-Bell employees. And more so today, being as it was the day after the audacious murder.

  His first stroke of luck was having been given the day off work to carry out the surveillance; his second stroke had been the five, twenty quid notes handed to him to help grease any palms or throats. He knew Hunter-Bell builders would have free time on their hands due to the police activity and cordon around the building. And he knew where they would be headed, the Regent Bridge Bar on Regent Quay. Inside, the atmosphere was electric with all talk directed at the live video stream of the guy dunking himself to death in a reservoir of water. Several knew of the victim and were even prepared to condone the action in view of the victim’s treachery. But most saw it as a slight against their allegiance to their Boss, HunterBell Construction, particularly as it was carried out on one of the company’s own buildings.

  Bill mixed and mingled, beer came and went and his own tongue loosened, to the extent that he was giving more than he received, even though a wrong word could create a swift backlash and so jeopardise his personal safety. But Bill being Bill, he rose above this concern, most likely due to the amount of beer he had consumed. His diligence level dropped and his uncertainty rose as to whether comrades nursing mobile phones, were a good or bad thing. However, seven pints of Heavy was sufficient to reduce any drinker’s qualms and increase their Dutch courage, sufficiently enough to gamble with their own security. Bill was of such an opinion; he had gleaned knowledge and convinced himself that the four kilometres’ journey home, to Cairncry Court in Hilton, northwest of the city, could be achieved on his own and without mishap. And the fresh air would allow him ample time to recall and compartmentalise the information before it slipped his mind. Whether the alcohol had spoken or whether it was just his own stupidity, either way travelling solo was not the wisest decision Bill Duncan had ever taken, but it would certainly be his last.

  As he crossed over onto Marischal Street a young woman began walking towards him along the otherwise deserted pavement. Short-skirted and cleavage revealing she moved closer, her gait exaggerated by a phone nestling between shoulder and ear. Bill had clocked her immediately as she exited the newsagents and he liked his first impression. On closer inspection he now saw her talking into the mobile with a cigarette moving up and down in her lips as she spoke. Still she came nearer and Bill resorted to stripping off, with his eyes, what few clothes she was wearing. He appraised his imagined final result and only then realised that she was now frantically rummaging through her bag. The whole scenario produced an image of a comic clown in his mind but one far more attractive and now naked to him alone. His addled brain instantly picked up an unexpected but very inviting opportunity and that same brain told him he would be most deserving of the gratuitous outcome. Still rummaging, the girl immediately stopped in front of Bill, took her cigarette from her russet coloured lips and held it gracefully in her slender fingers. Already bewitched, Bill stared at her long, black lashes, knitting one and pearling one as they batted pleadingly at him. He had no idea what she was going to say, even though it was obvious.

  “Have you a light, please?”

  Bill panicked and ordered his own eyes to stay north of her neck and not wander on to the ample breasts, which invitingly encouraged him to do otherwise. He visibly shook, cleared his throat and replied in his best non-slurring voice, “Course I have, hen.” His reply was obviously far more innocent than he was actually feeling, and so to hide his ulterior motive he began searching through his jacket pockets for his lighter. This took longer than necessary, as he needed time to think in order to allow the dialogue to develop.

  A black Hummer, which had been slowly tracking his movements from the moment he left the bar, silently pulled up, not giving him that time. The two new acquaintances were now standing at the point where Virginia Street passed beneath them and at this juncture two passengers alighted from the vehicle, grabbed Bill and bundled him into the back of the vehicle, still with his hands jammed into his pockets. The cleavage-revealing, short-skirted, attractive young girl walked on by; her job complete. Bill’s was only just beginning and from here it was only a short drive to where he would meet his maker. But first he would need a little help on the way.

  The Hummer drove to a disused warehouse by the side of one of the many wharfs. Here the occupants met
up with Brody Dewar, one of Calum’s lieutenants who had not only been charged with the deed but also with sending out a message. Dressed head to foot in white paper overalls, overshoes and a black balaclava for impact, he addressed Bill in quite a friendly manner, “Now you don’t know me from Adam but my Boss has ordered that I leave a message and you’re it.”

  Bill’s beer soured in his stomach as his blood drained face expressed reservations about his imagined forthcoming prospects. Brody continued, “Oh, don’t worry. It’s not a reprisal sort of thing. If anything, it’s worse, much worse. Boys, secure his hands with a cable tie and then go back to the vehicle and change, I’ll escort our new friend inside. We don’t want to appear rude and leave him out on the doorstep now, do we?”

  *

  The update meeting convened at fifteen hundred hours with the additional presence of DCI McVay. His presence ensured that everyone brought plenty to the table, focused on the proceedings and were on their Sunday-best behaviour. Brenda Barbour in school ma’am mode with marker at the ready addressed the assembled detectives. “Right, Let’s start the ball rolling. Who was gathering information on the builders and the actual owners of the building?”

  DC Brownlee answered, “Ma’am, the building contractors are Hunter-Bell Construction. They are local to the area; in fact we’ve had a couple of run-ins with them in the past. They are also documented as being the owners of the building and have a freehold lease on the land on which it is being built. Just expanding a little on our previous meetings with the company, the latest was three years ago when the furniture warehouse previously residing on this site was mysteriously razed to the ground. And, surprise, surprise that was not long after the then landlord had significantly increased the insurance policy on the building. The fire was proved to be arson but fraud squad were never able to apprehend, let alone convict, anyone for the crime.”

  “Yes, DC Brownlee, it is beginning to ring a few bells. It’s amazing though, what a cloak of respectability new bricks and mortar can throw over what we can only assume is a building being financed from criminal activity. Next. Yes, DC Thorne.”

  “We’re still waiting for official photographs of the victim Ma’am. The path lab has had to thaw out the deceased in order to carry that out. But we’ve already received several anonymous calls from the public who have seen the video link and recognised the ‘dunking man’. Their words not mine Ma’am. Of the names suggested, the most common one is Joseph Donaldson, usually answers to ‘Joey’.”

  “You mean answered to ‘Joey’, don’t you?” suggested DS Campbell.

  “Yes, DS. Answered as in the past.”

  “Now I can understand the weirdness that the thought

  pattern of the murderer who designed this contraption has fuelled but I feel we should still show a modicum of respect. A man has died here and even allowing for its uniqueness, in not very pleasant circumstances.” The DCI’s sobering comments took the slightly pantomime edge off the meeting and nudged it back onto the right track.

  “Yes, Sir. We all need to keep that at the forefront of our minds and carry out this investigation in our usual professionally trained manner,” replied DI Barbour.

  “Ma’am. I revisited the site and checked out for any CCTV cameras. There were two sets on surrounding properties, which may have recorded comings and goings on the building in question. Unfortunately, the data for the particular six-hour period is blank in both cases. On further investigation it was found that both cameras had already been reccied and then nobbled purposely with black tape. And on the site itself the cameras are damaged beyond repair.”

  “Thank you DC Grant. From that we can assume that they know their way around a building site and are savvy enough in knowing how to make themselves inconspicuous,” replied DI Barbour. “Still no motive, though? Anyone any ideas on the Internet link? What have the techies got to say?”

  DC Coburn offered a thought, “I’ve a feeling that the motive might turn out to be more on the lines of a turf war. Hunter-Bell has history with a few other contractor businesses in the area, none more so than Lucisano’s Build & Real Estate. My contacts have heard of increased activity on both fronts, particularly after the Camorra passed through on the hunt for that solicitor.”

  “Yes, you could well be right. We all know we missed a trick there,” said DI Barbour looking sheepishly at the DCI. “But that being the case, do we have any idea on which side this Joey was working?” she asked.

  “As far as I know he was a Lucisano’s man, so if HunterBell knocked him off why would they leave him on their own property and in such an elaborate death throw?” DC Thorne replied questioningly.

  “Are we still waiting for the path lab’s and forensics’ reports? What’s the latest on the video feed?” asked the DI trying to gee up the impetus of the investigation.

  “I can answer what little we know on the video. The time clock said that it had been running for just short of six hours. The video was in real time with synchronized audio, albeit edited at various points. We’ve made a note of the length of gaps and are trying appropriate words, which may fit. As some of you are probably aware the audio became silent far sooner than the video and this is the point at which we presume he went into shock and died, but really the pathologist is the best bet for that. Trying to trace the upload to the Internet is going to be nigh on impossible. We are already at six IP addresses and three servers and quickly heading in the direction of the Far East, which generally leads to a dead end. Suffice it to say that the originator knew what he was doing and we’ll struggle to identify the original source, short of a miracle.”

  The DCI butted in with, “Thanks but we don’t do miracles, so just work harder and let me know if you need extra manpower to help. This single case could escalate before our very eyes, we need to get on top of it and stay there for as long as possible.”

  CHAPTER FOUR Novelty became routine as the two girls slipped seamlessly back into quiet village life until they received unexpected visitors. At the door, Emma greeted the two officers in her homely dressing gown. She recognized DC Blister from the occasion of being detained at the airport and invited both to come in and take a seat in the lounge. Ten minutes later, Jessica returned from her latest run, still not satisfied with her fitness improvement and now slightly concerned at the strange car parked outside the door. Emma collared her in the hall and advised her that it was only that detective who had interviewed her on their return from Naples. “What do you mean, only that detective? What’s he doing here sitting on my sofa?” flared up Jessica in panic, as she peeked round the door.

  “Goodness knows, Jess. You better go in and ask,” was the curt reply.

  So Jessica stuck her head into the lounge and before either of the officers could stand, let alone speak, she said, “Won’t keep you a moment, I just need a quick shower”. ‘At least that will give me time to think,’ she thought.

  Suitably dressed and descending the stairs she noticed that the two detectives were barring her possible escape from the front and back doors respectively. DS Tarbert chaperoned her back into her lounge and awaited the arrival of DC Blister and less importantly, Emma.

  “Jessica Lambert?” Her nod confirmed that she was the correct person he was addressing. “DC Blister has appraised me of your initial interview. And subsequent to that, certain information has now come to light, which we need to discuss further at the station. Primarily, we have been tasked with taking a sample of your DNA, for which paperwork is being processed as we speak. And then we’ll follow up with questions regarding your time at The Borders Agency. Do you have a problem with that?”

  Jessica shrugged imperceptibly as if it was of no interest either way. She followed this with a sharp inhalation, as it felt like minutes since she had taken her last breath. Her pretend world was about to come crashing down around her and surprisingly she felt calm enough to embrace it wholeheartedly. She swayed as relief spread throughout her body finally alighting on her face; adding a sereni
ty to complement the few pinpricks of sweat that had formed from her recent workout. Instinctively she mopped her brow, using the metaphorical towel one last time before she threw it in.

  DC Blister approached and grabbed her arm so preventing her from making a dash for freedom. An unnecessary action considering the turmoil Jessica’s brain was experiencing. Unbeknownst to them, they were witnessing the beginning of her meltdown and its completion would not be too far behind. Emma ran to her side and grabbed at the other free arm as she was being escorted to the door. The episode took on comedic proportions as the two girls and DC Blister became stuck in the narrowness of the hallway. DS Tarbert broke the deadlock saying, “Just let them have a moment. I can’t imagine that we’ve got a runner,” without any sense of irony in his voice.

  Emma threw her arms around Jessica and sobbed for both their sakes. Jessica was being taken away; she was losing a sister and friend whom she had only just found. Jessica’s eyes said it all, absolutely nothing, no recognition, no emotion. She had retreated to a corner of her mind where nothing and no one could hurt her. “Jess, look at me. What am I going to do without you? You’ve become my life, you’ve made me strong, but I only feel confident with you around. Those are the times when I know that I can cope with life.” Emma’s pleas fell on the silence unanswered. In the end it was Jessica who broke the spell as she began walking towards the door for a car journey, presumably back to Edinburgh. This left Emma to contemplate the dynamics of their relationship and her need to toughen up and begin acting smart.

  *

  En route, DS Tarbert called HQ and informed DI Gregor of their success in apprehending the suspect. But that was the only conversation to take place in the fifty-odd minutes period. Each of the three occupants was left to ponder what the next few days had in store, but in reality only two were up for the conclusions.