by Lynne McEwan
‘So, it’s just a bit of enterprising shoplifting?’ Kate Irving said, arching her eyebrows. ‘Something for Ravi. He could ask around his community.’ Shona noted her DC’s scorn.
‘Not on this scale it’s not,’ Murdo replied.
‘How many shops were hit?’ Shona cut in.
‘Eighteen, so far. Approximately two hundred and fifty items taken.’
‘So how much are they selling it for online?’
‘Manager reckons between ten pounds and thirty pounds a pop,’ Murdo said. ‘So that’s potentially…’
‘…Between two and a half and seven and a half grand.’ Shona beat him to the maths. ‘Bit more than shoplifting.’
Kate Irving looked down at her notebook, a blush spreading across her pale complexion, ignoring the smirks from her colleagues.
‘The calls are still coming in from the smaller shops who’ve just heard about it and are checking their stock.’ Murdo consulted his notebook again. ‘Tesco, Morrisons, the Co-ops, all the wee convenience stores, Spar, Boots in Dumfries have all now reported thefts. Some have been slow to come forward, it’s often not worth their while prosecuting, and with supplies short they said they didn’t want to spark panic buying. Now the media have got wind of it. I’ve already had the press office on to me.’
‘Okay.’ Shona nodded. ‘Could be the work of an organised crime group. If it is an OCG then a Major Investigation Team may already be on it, working countrywide.’ Shona leaned forward and tapped the table, making eye contact in turn with everyone around it. ‘But this is our patch, so I want every piece of evidence we hand to the MIT to be top notch. No opportunity missed. Understood?’
Nods and murmurs of ‘Yes, ma’am’ ran around the room.
‘New CCTV from the stores is already on its way,’ said O’Halloran. ‘I’ve got uniform compiling a list of potential witnesses from among the shop assistants and doing statements.’
‘Good. Thank you, Murdo.’ Shona pointed her pen at her DC. ‘Kate, speak to the officers who’ve been dealing with this. Get a team together and do an initial trawl of the new CCTV when it arrives. I want to know how many individuals we’re looking for. Is this a single couple or multiple groups? I want descriptions, clothing.’ Kate began typing notes into her tablet. ‘And a timeline,’ Shona continued. ‘I want a timeline. If there’s a vehicle, or vehicles, identified get onto Traffic for potential ANPR hits. Let’s establish if they’re local or just visiting. Also check if we’ve already recovered anything with possible forensic opportunities. DNA, fingerprints. Did the perpetrators touch anything? Drop anything? There will be contamination, but we have multiple crime scenes. If we can find forensic links between them, we could have our suspects.’ She turned to DS O’Halloran. ‘And tell the press office they’ll have that statement by lunchtime. Keep me updated. I want any leads as soon as we have them.’
Murmured conversation and a sense of purpose filled the room. DC Kate Irving was already leaning back in her chair talking to a young man and a middle-aged woman, two of the civilian staff, standing behind her. Murdo was scrolling through his phone. Dan wondered if he’d been forgotten.
‘Now,’ said Shona firmly, regaining their attention. ‘DC Ridley has come in to ask for our assistance with a suspicious death. DC Ridley, would you like to take us through it?’ She shuffled her chair sideways and motioned for the others to make room for him. She could see he was nervous. It was tough presenting to officers you didn’t know. She gave him an encouraging smile.
‘Morning, everyone. I’m DC Dan Ridley from Cumbria CID.’ He slid the post-mortem photographs from his folder and passed them round. ‘Last Saturday, a young woman’s body was recovered from the Solway Firth by Kirkness lifeboat.’ He paused and looked at Shona, but she nodded for him to go on. ‘She’d been in the water some time and the PM showed cause of death to be internal injuries. A torn liver and ruptured stomach consistent with either a high-speed road traffic accident, where the seat belt can cut into the victim on impact.’ He motioned across his torso. ‘Or a severe beating. Someone kicking, punching or stamping on the victim, causing the fatal injuries.’
‘Which does the pathologist feel is more likely?’ asked DS O’Halloran. ‘Given where she was found I’d say a car crash doesn’t fit.’
‘The pathologist, Dr Wilson, won’t commit to either.’ Dan replied. ‘Said it wasn’t his job to speculate.’
‘What about defensive injuries?’ Kate asked.
Shona stepped in. ‘One of her hands was missing and there was extensive soft tissue degeneration due to immersion in sea water. It would have been difficult to tell.’ She turned to Dan. ‘How long did Dr Wilson estimate she’d been in the water?’
‘Three weeks. She’d given birth at some point, though not recently. The state of her lungs also meant Dr Wilson…’ Dan fumbled for his notebook. ‘He said he couldn’t rule out if drowning was a factor in her death.’
‘You mean she could have been alive when she went in to the Solway Firth? Dear God.’ Murdo shook his head.
‘We haven’t been able to identify her,’ Dan went on, ‘although we’re still waiting for DNA. She doesn’t match the description of anyone reported missing in Cumbria. I searched the UK Missing Persons database, but I got dozens of matches for blonde, young women aged twenty to thirty reported missing nationally, even without including Ireland or Europe.’
‘There was no identification material with her, no purse or phone,’ Shona added. ‘Was there anything in her pockets?’ Ridley shook his head. Shona continued, ‘She was wearing a bracelet. What about that?’
Dan shuffled through the prints until he found the images of a thick silver band set beside a black and white forensic photography scale. He passed them round. ‘No luck with a manufacturer. It’s not sterling silver, so no hallmark either. Could have been made by a local artist or crafter.’
Murdo held up one of the pictures showing a flattened section of the bangle. Stamped into it were two overlapping hearts surmounted by a crown. ‘It’s a Luckenbooth.’ When the others looked blank, he continued. ‘Comes from Edinburgh originally. It’s an old design for a brooch. Used to be given as love tokens, or to ward off the evil eye. Didnae work for this lassie, did it?’ He shook his head again. ‘Turns up on all sorts of jewellery nowadays. I gave Joan a pair of earrings like this for our anniversary. Doesn’t mean our victim’s Scottish, but it’s a connection, of sorts.’
‘If you could circulate the bracelet, ask around. I’d be very grateful,’ Dan said.
Shona gathered up the pictures in front of her. The woman’s body looked even more abandoned and alone against the cold stainless steel of the mortuary table than it had done on the Solway’s sands. The mermaid hair was scraped back from the battered remains of her face. Somewhere a child had lost a mother, and a mother had lost a daughter. The ripples would spread out, touching family, friends, workmates and acquaintances, rolling on forever unless some resolution could be found. It was their job to find it. Shona could sense her team watching her, waiting for a decision.
‘We, the lifeboat, recovered her tangled up in some netting from the sandbank halfway between Scotland and England,’ she began. ‘It was on the coastguard’s instruction that this woman went to Cumbria, but only because emergency services were already standing by at Silloth. We’re in a unique position here in Dumfries and Galloway Division, sitting as we do on the boundaries of Scotland, England and Northern Ireland. With that position comes the responsibility to aid our colleagues wherever they are. Though we may be on different sides of a border, we’re all on the same side when it comes to achieving justice for the victims of crime.’ She tapped the photographs. ‘This could just as easily been our case, so I want you to think of DC Ridley as a member of the team and give him all the help you can.’ Shona handed the prints back to Dan. ‘Send me an electronic file of all the pictures and the PM report and I’ll see it’s circulated, and we’ll put your contact details on the comms list.’
> She turned back to the room. ‘Right. Everyone know what they’re doing?’ There were nods as people packed up and split into twos and threes to start their assigned tasks.
‘Murdo, we’ll have a sit-down later.’ Shona lifted her bag and folder. ‘I’ve got a budgets meeting. Can you show DC Ridley out?’ She nodded to Dan. ‘Thank you for coming over.’ Then she was gone.
DC Ridley and DS O’Halloran made their way downstairs and stopped by the front desk.
‘What’s your guvnor in Carlisle like then?’ asked Murdo.
‘Likes the sound of his own voice, preferably as loud as possible,’ Dan replied, holding up the A4 folder. ‘Thinks this case should be filed under unexplained death and no arguments. Doesn’t hold with “fancy policing”. That’s anything introduced this century. You lot are getting off lightly. How’s your guv, then?’
Murdo grinned. ‘Let me tell you about DI Oliver. When she came up from London, she spent a couple of weeks with different sections, getting a feel for the area, how it differed from the city. She even did a day or two with Traffic, out on the streets, not sitting in an office. When she was with the Families Support Team, some low-life who goes by the name of Gringo – a six feet three inches pile of shite – had put his missus in hospital. DI Oliver and a young special constable went to get a statement. Gringo arrives, shouting the odds, and walloped the male special, who tried to stop him getting at his missus, still laid out in a hospital bed. Do you know what the boss did?’
‘Called for back-up? Talked him down?’
‘No. She picked up the constable’s baton and gave Gringo a hammering. Bastard was on his knees when security arrived. Threatened to complain about police brutality but dropped the idea quickety-quick when he realised he’d have to stand up in court and explain how Wee Shona had beat him up. He’d be a laughing stock. His pals would never let him forget it.’
Dan pursed his lips and nodded. ‘Impressive. Does she do martial arts training?’
Murdo’s eyes twinkled with amusement. ‘No, pal. Under that soccer mom exterior, she’s as hard as fuck. Grew up in the east end of Glasgow. So, remember, don’t get on the wrong side of her. No one gets off lightly with Wee Shona. She’ll take your head off your shoulders, possibly even literally.’ DS O’Halloran smiled and clapped Dan on the back. ‘But, no worries, eh? Nice well-behaved lad like you? You’ll be fine, won’t you?’
Dan nodded obediently. ‘What happened to the guy? Gringo?’
‘The lassie pressed charges, after seeing what the boss did.’ Murdo dropped his voice. ‘Probably shouldn’t say this, but Wee Shona’s actions did more good than a month of community policing. Domestic violence prosecutions have gone up. It’s like the women feel the police just might be on their side.’ He opened the front door for Dan and they shook hands again. ‘One last thing. Don’t ever tell her I called her Wee Shona.’
Chapter 4
The next morning, DCI Gavin Baird appeared on the Skype screen. ‘Shona. Thanks for your case list. Are you up to speed on Op Fortress?’
‘Yes, sir.’ The document he’d sent was thinner than she’d expected; Baird was playing this close to his chest. She’d scanned through the brief, noting how different their styles of policing were. She’d have made more use of Dumfries officers with local knowledge for the raids.
But she was already on her guard. Six months ago, DCI Baird had poached Vincent Greig, her visual investigations specialist, and Chloe Burke, one of her best information analysts. Shona had read the latest Operation Fortress document with the level of caution she would deploy for any suspicious package, one which might detonate without warning, removing members of her team and leaving her to deal with the aftermath.
Shona’s door opened a fraction and DS O’Halloran quietly slid a sheet of notes onto her desk before pulling the door closed again. A printout from the local news website, DnG24, was clipped to the top. The baby milk story had made the headlines.
‘We’ll need every officer available for the co-ordinated raids,’ Baird continued. ‘I mean to hit this county lines drug network hard across Ayrshire, Dumfries and Galloway. I’ll be briefing everyone myself early next week.’
‘It’s a big job – can we set up a meeting to discuss this in more detail, sir?’
‘Everything you need is in the document.’ He waved away her concern. ‘This is an excellent opportunity to exceed our targets and impact several local outcomes – anti-social behaviour, health and wellbeing.’
What happened to saving lives, locking up the bad guys, thought Shona. It was in there somewhere. But he was right, a big anti-drugs operation like this would cut crime at every level, from dealers’ turf wars to the petty thefts and burglaries that fuelled the addicts’ need for cash. The poverty and hopelessness would still be there waiting to bloom, though, in all its grotesque form. Addicts would not vanish. Supply and demand, the business of crime, would exploit these people in other forms. The multi-agency meeting she’d just come from was already primed for the expected surge in workload that Operation Fortress would generate; everything from child protection to drug rehab cases would increase. She hoped the agencies would cope, but they were already at full stretch. There was no magic money tree, as DCI Baird often reminded her, or reserve division of social workers to deploy.
‘This Jane Doe in the Solway Firth…’ Baird broke into her thoughts.
‘Female, early twenties. Potentially a Scottish link, via her jewellery. I’m circulating particulars and checking local missing persons for matches.’
‘I wasn’t looking for an update. You can forget this one. I need you on the baby milk thefts.’
‘Why?’
‘Because you’re a senior detective, and a crime that has a massive impact on the public and business communities has been committed.’
‘And a young woman has died…’
‘Yes, and it’s Cumbria’s problem, let them deal with it. From what I can see there’s no clear evidence it’s murder. Unexplained, yes. We don’t have the resources to progress a case with no ID and little chance of success.’ Baird’s attention was being drawn by someone else in his office. Shona knew she’d already eaten up her allocated slot in his day. His PA would be signalling a more important caller or some Divisional matter that he should be attending to.
‘Look.’ A flash of exasperation passed over Baird’s face, but he smiled, composing himself. ‘You’re an excellent detective inspector, and these thefts have caused a major impact on the retail businesses of the area. Now the press have got it. It’s trending on Mumsnet, for God’s sake. There’s gonna be flack if we don’t shut this down quickly. You’re right to highlight possible organised crime gang connections, but it’s currently just your area affected. I need my best officer on it if it’s not to spread.’
Shona recognised the casual attempt at flattery. They both saw it for what it was. He was ordering her to drop the body in the firth case but allowing her the fig leaf of self-esteem and himself the wiggle room to deny it, should there be any comeback. She wouldn’t play that game.
‘Are you telling me not to investigate this death, sir?’
‘I’m saying we have other operational priorities, Shona. Oh, by the way,’ he said, effectively ending any further discussion, ‘are you still on for the Scottish Trade Against Crime reception next week? Kenny Hanlon will be announcing the new crime prevention initiatives his business group are co-funding.’
Shona hadn’t realised that the STAC launch was so soon. A trek up to Glasgow to stand around smiling at business leaders who thought they were entitled to tell her how to do her job because they were paying for the drinks was the last thing she wanted. Baird, she knew, would be in his element.
There were several operational reasons why Police Scotland should suck up to Kenny Hanlon. Money was the chief concern, closely followed by positive press coverage. Hanlon was a celebrity businessman who had his own show on BBC Scotland, The Enterpriser, a kind of tartan Dragon’s Den and The Appre
ntice rolled into one. The funding figures looked impressive and community groups would welcome it with open arms. Was this a serious attempt to cut crime or a vanity project for Kenny Hanlon? Shona had yet to decide. She resolved to treat the evening as a research trip, an opportunity to judge, and perhaps influence, how much in the way of extra resources could be channelled into her patch in the aftermath of Operation Fortress. ‘Yes, of course. I’ll be there.’
Baird cut the call. Shona scanned the main office through the glass panels of her room. Catching DC Kate Irving’s eye, she motioned her to come in.
‘Boss?’ Kate stopped in the doorway, notebook in hand.
‘How are we doing with CCTV on the baby milk job? Any updates?’ Shona had run through the notes Murdo had left on the desk without learning anything new.
Kate slumped her tall frame against the door jamb. ‘It’s slow going. I’ve got Hannah and Ed on it, but there’s multiple cameras from each store. It would be a lot easier if Op Fortress hadn’t swiped Vinny the Visuals. One of the small shops sent us a CD. I spent most of yesterday afternoon trying to find a laptop with a disc player in it.’
‘Have you cross-referenced the thefts with the timeline, given yourselves somewhere to start?’ Shona asked.
‘Well, we’re trying. The store thefts began about two months ago, but there’s dozens of statements, and some of the shops didn’t notice the thefts until later.’
‘You see, this is why a timeline is important on multiple incidents, otherwise you’ll be running around like headless chickens. Page one stuff, Kate.’ Shona pushed her chair back. ‘Get a provisional timeline on the whiteboard, based on calls coming in. Get someone on statements adding to it, use the clerical assistants if you’re stuck, one or two are quite quick at reading through pages of text. Then you, Hannah and Ed confirm dates and times based on CCTV. I want descriptions on the board in an hour. Suspects and any cars. We’ll put a press release out in time for this evening’s news. We’ll get a lot of calls, mostly useless, but DCI Baird wants us to take this on.’
