by Lynne McEwan
‘So sorry.’ She smiled regretfully. ‘Our daughter’s expecting us home and we have guests arriving tomorrow and… business is business.’ She winked in a fair impression of The Enterpriser’s opening titles.
‘Ha.’ Hanlon laughed, obviously delighted with this homage to his brand. ‘What a cherub you are. Oh, you must stay.’ Shona managed to duck an attempt to take her face in his meaty hands.
Shona smiled through gritted teeth. She linked Rob’s arm firmly. He had a look of bemused amiability on his face, having lost the thread of conversation a while back, but everyone seemed to be having fun. ‘Cheers, big man,’ he called boozily to Hanlon as Shona pulled him away.
They were heading towards the car park when Rob looked her up and down and said, ‘Where’s your jacket?’ It was vintage Fendi and a present, too expensive to leave behind. Shona swore under her breath. ‘Want me to go back for it?’ he asked hopefully.
She raised her eyebrows at him and handed over the keys. ‘Nice try. You sit in the car, I’ll only be a minute.’
Shona retrieved her jacket. As she left the cloakroom she heard Hanlon’s booming laugh and stepped back into a dim alcove hoping he’d pass. An angled mirror was set in the opposite wall. The reflection showed Hanlon and Nicola Baird. He was exploring the intricacies of her dress and she was doing nothing to stop him. After a moment they moved away.
Shona was heading back down the empty corridor when Baird appeared. ‘That went well, didn’t it?’ he said, beaming.
‘Yes, sir,’ she said.
‘Gavin,’ he corrected her. ‘You know, Shona, two good results on the drugs.’ Baird bent closer to her, blocking her exit. ‘What a great team we are when we work together.’ His breath was hot against her ear. ‘You and I are not so different, both clawed our way up, learned to make deals to get what you need. I can make it worth your while.’ She could smell whisky on his breath. ‘Rob looks pretty out of it,’ he continued. Shona tried to take a step back, but he put out an arm to stop her. ‘The room’s booked. You could stay?’ Baird was standing close, staring down at her with a hungry expression. The corridor was dim and stuffy, but the prickling of sweat on her back had nothing to do with the heat. She felt a wave of nausea, then anger. The drugs hauls had been down to her and her team. Baird had had nothing to do with it and now he thought he deserved, what? Her gratitude? Her fawning admiration? Her compliance? Her body?
She took a step to the side, but he followed, moving closer. She glared at him. ‘Excuse me.’ He leaned forward, pressing his body against hers, grabbing her wrists, pinning her to the wall. She felt a sick wave of panic. Turning away as he tried to kiss her, she spied Nicola coming along the corridor towards them, a deep frown on her face. ‘I think your wife’s looking for you,’ she hissed at Baird as she prised herself free.
Why hadn’t she seen this coming? She and Munroe were probably the only sober people in the room. Letting herself be cornered by Baird was pathetic. She hoped Nicola tore him to shreds. Her hands were shaking, tears of anger and shame pricking at her eyes. She should have engaged her copper’s sixth sense, known what would happen. She was a fool. All she wanted to do was get back to Rob and go home.
As she reached the hotel entrance, Shona glanced back. Kenny Hanlon was talking to a frowning Baird. They looked at her keenly before Hanlon gave her a theatrical wave. As Shona turned and walked away, she had the distinct impression that both The Enterpriser and her boss were not nearly as drunk as they were making out.
Chapter 13
Despite the previous late night, and the fact it was Saturday, Shona arrived early for work the next morning in a well-cut dark grey suit and a lavender shirt. Murdo was already at his desk. She called him into her office and updated him on the prison visit with Gringo.
‘Thanks for coming in. This should only take a couple of hours,’ Shona said.
‘No worries. My weekend on call anyway. What d’you have in mind?’
‘We’re going to have a chat with Isla’s ex, Duncan Saltire. Do a background check on him first. Anything recent, firearms licence, the works. Don’t want any nasty surprises.’
‘You fancy him for the girl’s killing?’
Shona nodded. ‘Got to be in the frame. Saltire’s a proto-politician who believes he’s destined to lead. He has righteous anger and thinks he can get away with anything.’
‘Thinks he’s above the law.’
‘Exactly. So, let’s knock him down a peg or two.’
‘I’ll just finish typing up my notes,’ Murdo said. ‘I interviewed Isla’s brother Lewis last night on my way home. He works in a fast-food restaurant, perfect cover for dealing. I wondered if he’d joined some arm of the family business, but he wants nothing to do with the Corrs. Threw some light on their appalling home life. Gave me a number for Isla’s older sister, Eva. She’s twenty-four and lives in Australia. I came in early to phone her. She got out quick, did a nursing degree then bolted for the other side of the world.’ Murdo shook his head. ‘Thought since she’d been away for so long she’d take the news okay, but she was in bits. Burdened with guilt, said she should have protected her little sister and wants to come back for the funeral. I told her it might be a wee while ’til Cumbria release the body, but we’d let her know.’
‘Had she any recent contact with Isla?’ Shona asked. She took a multi-vitamin pill and two Ibuprofen from her desk drawer, swallowing them down with bottled water.
Murdo shook his head. ‘They didn’t speak. Eva’s first reaction was to ask if their father was responsible for Isla’s death. Tells you all you need to know about that family.’
‘Jesus.’ Shona rubbed her forehead and took another swig of water. ‘Did we confirm Paddy’s state of health with the doctors?’
‘Aye, he’s out of the picture. Can barely walk. Marie’s got a full-time job caring for the bastard. I wonder she can stomach it.’
Shona crossed to the whiteboard and erased Paddy Corr’s name with her finger, rewriting it at the bottom of the list. In its place she wrote Duncan Saltire. She replaced the cap on the marker and tapped the new name. ‘Okay, Murdo. Let’s see what this guy can tell us.’
* * *
Duncan Saltire’s address was a property tucked in a quiet street not far from the centre of Annan. The house was a respectable double bay-fronted semi-detached built of red sandstone, which he’d inherited from his parents. Around that time, he’d changed his name from Duncan Ferguson to the more patriotic Saltire, the name for Scotland’s national flag. The only sign of the house’s noteworthy occupant was the heavy locks and the CCTV on the solid Victorian front door. The letterbox was sealed. Mail could be deposited in a locked metal container by the front gate. The background checks on his recent activities had come up clean, not even a parking ticket.
Murdo pressed the doorbell. Somewhere a tinkling sound from another era echoed. A shadow moved behind the peephole and Saltire himself opened the door. Short and lean, he was dressed in a white shirt with a light red willow pattern, cuffs rolled back to reveal muscular forearms. He wore jeans and his feet were bare. His fair skin was rosy from the shower and his cropped blond hair and moustache still wet.
‘Yes?’ he said, his face expressionless. Murdo and Shona held up their badges. She saw a flash of annoyance. ‘Suppose you better come in.’ He stalked off down the Milton tiled hallway, leaving the officers to follow. ‘I’ve a meeting, you’d better be quick.’ Murdo closed the door behind them.
They found him seated on a brown leather Chesterfield sofa in a tastefully decorated room that looked out over a neat back garden. The lawn ran down to a high brick wall topped with razor wire. Saltire was not looking at them but pulling on black socks. ‘Our march permits are all in order. Or are the police wasting resources checking up on peaceful political campaigning while crimes committed by illegal immigrants go unsolved?’ A pair of polished brogues lay on the carpet. ‘What’s this all about?’ He didn’t invite them to sit down.
‘Isla Co
rr,’ said Murdo.
Saltire said nothing, but Shona saw the missed beat, the fraction of a second when Saltire hesitated. Eventually, he said, ‘What about Isla Corr?’ He finished with the socks and lifted the shoes towards him.
‘We’ve found her body,’ Murdo continued, sitting down on the matching sofa opposite.
Saltire took a moment to answer. ‘What does that have to do with me?’
‘We understand you were previously in a relationship with Isla. We’d like to know when you last saw her.’ Murdo took out his notebook.
Saltire shrugged. ‘Wouldn’t call it a relationship. I’ve not seen her for some time.’
‘If you could be more precise, sir? This is a serious matter.’
Saltire gave a quizzical tilt of his head. He smiled. ‘If this is official, maybe I need my solicitor?’
‘If this was an official interview, you’d be down the station,’ said Murdo flatly. ‘We could do that if you wish. I’ll radio for a squad car to take you in. Cancel your meeting. Call your solicitor if you like.’ Murdo got up and buttoned his suit jacket in preparation to leave.
‘Okay,’ said Saltire, glancing at his watch, then motioning Murdo to sit down. ‘I haven’t seen Isla for a good few weeks,’ he continued. Murdo raised his eyebrows, inviting him to be more precise. ‘It was the Sunday of the Electric Forest Festival at Lanrig Castle, I’d just got back. She was waiting.’
‘So,’ Murdo flipped to the calendar pasted in the back of his notebook, ‘Sunday, July 29th, that would be. What did she want?’
‘She just dropped in to say hello.’ Saltire slid one foot in his brogue and began tying the laces.
‘What did you talk about? Did she seem distressed? Worried? Anyone threatening her?’
There it was again, the shrug. Confident the crisis had passed, Saltire pulled on the second shoe. ‘Not that I know of.’
‘Was Isla blackmailing you?’ Shona had remained standing just out of Saltire’s eyeline. ‘Because you’re the father of her child?’ He turned and glared at her with such venom she knew she’d hit the mark.
He concentrated on his laces. ‘You’ll need a court order to pursue that misguided idea.’
‘Isla was fifteen and an addict. I believe the Sons of Scotia take a dim view of drugs.’ Shona held up a campaign leaflet lifted from the hall table. On the front, a group of men marched behind the Scottish flag, a white diagonal cross on a blue background. Inside the leaflet was a declaration that they were taking back their country from a list of undesirables that included drug addicts, thieves and immigrants. Prospective supporters were urged to help at animal sanctuaries and hand out food and leaflets to white homeless people.
Saltire got up and walked slowly towards Shona. His posture became stiff as he sought to increase his meagre height. He leaned his face in close to hers and pulled up his unbuttoned shirt cuffs, showing her the inside of smooth pale arms, lightly covered in red-blond hairs.
‘See any tracks? Think I don’t believe what I say?’
‘Do you believe it enough to kill for?’ Shona challenged, her face impassive.
Saltire stared at her. ‘To die for your beliefs is to become a martyr for your cause.’
‘That’s not what I asked you.’ Shona kept eye contact. ‘We have a witness who says you were harassing Isla.’
Saltire looked away first. ‘I didn’t kill Isla. I wanted her to join us.’
‘But she refused? You wanted her back?’
‘I was not having a relationship with Miss Corr.’ Saltire returned to the sofa and sat down.
‘But you argued the last time you saw her?’ Shona took a seat next to Murdo.
‘We had a lively discussion,’ he continued. ‘She needed something to believe in. She’d been clean before but lacked faith and direction. Our organisation would have looked after her, kept her off drugs, given her purpose in her life. A pure and united country is something to work for.’ He was warming to his subject – Saltire as saviour.
‘Did she ask you for money?’ Shona said.
‘I offered her a Tesco voucher for food but that was all.’ He shook his head. ‘You know we set up a food bank in Glasgow for white people, local people, and they shut us down. What sort of government wants its people to starve?’
What sort of human being denies another food based on the colour of their skin, Shona wanted to ask. Instead she said, ‘Thank you for your time, Mr Saltire. We’ll be in touch if we have any further questions. We’ll see ourselves out.’
Saltire got up and held out the leaflet. ‘Take this with you. Things are changing in Scotland. When the time comes, it might help you decide to do the right thing.’
* * *
They arrived back at the station and Murdo went upstairs to do further digging on Duncan Saltire, promising to call Shona at home if he found anything.
‘Ma’am, your daughter is here,’ the desk officer told her.
Shona checked her phone. No missed calls. Becca was studying at her friend Ellie’s place for the day. What was she doing here at lunchtime? Perhaps she’d finished early, come into town and Rob wasn’t answering his mobile for the obligatory lift home. Shona turned to go out into the public reception, but the desk officer stopped her. ‘No ma’am, she’s in here.’ He indicated the cells and lowered his voice. ‘The registration number you gave us. Uniform stopped the car for speeding, the lads were in it. Your daughter was with them. There was cannabis in the vehicle. I think you’d better have a word with the custody sergeant.’ He pursed his lips, unhappy to be the bearer of bad news.
Two years before, at her previous school in London, Becca had been caught with a small amount of cannabis. At the time Shona had failed to identify any furtive behaviour linked to drug use, but no one can fool a mother like her own child. ‘Thank you,’ she said. Her knuckles showed white as she gripped the handle of the custody suite door. It buzzed open.
‘Rebecca,’ Shona barked, her face incandescent with anger. Becca, wearing ripped black jeans and a black hoodie, was perched on a metal bench opposite the custody counter. Her knees were drawn up to her chin, an attempt to make herself as small and unobtrusive as possible. Her dark eyes widened with apprehension when she saw her mother. The duty officer nodded to a room opposite and Shona hauled her daughter inside, slamming the door.
‘I didn’t know they had the stuff.’ Becca was indignant. ‘Why don’t you trust me?’ Her lip trembled and Shona could see she’d been crying.
‘You know why,’ Shona replied. ‘You swore to me you’d never do this again.’
‘I didn’t!’ Becca yelled. ‘It was them. It was just a tiny wrap of resin.’ She calmed herself down a moment, shrugging. ‘The whatsit fiscal won’t do anything cos they’re seventeen and first timers. Don’t sweat it, Mum.’
‘Don’t what?’ Shona shouted, infuriated by her daughter’s knowing air. ‘I’m a police officer, Becca. Have you stopped to think how this affects me? My own daughter, dragged into the station.’
From Becca’s expression, Shona could tell the thought hadn’t even occurred to her. ‘Sorry, Mum,’ she mumbled.
Shona took a deep breath. She was livid, but a slanging match with her daughter wouldn’t help. ‘Do you want to get expelled, again? What will the school say? Why were you even in the car? These lads are two years older than you.’
‘We were just in town and they pulled up. They said me and Ellie could go with them to McDonald’s, get a burger. They’re all right really. I was just trying to make friends. It was only a bit of weed. I wouldn’t touch it. I’ve got more sense.’ Becca folded her arms and slumped against the wall.
‘You’ve let me down, Becca. I thought when we left London, we’d put this behind us. You know I lost my mother to drugs. I see every day what it does to people. Do you honestly think I’ll let you throw your life away on the stuff?’
‘I know, I know. You can trust me, Mum. But that’s just it, kids everywhere do it. It’s not just about partying. Sometimes
it’s about helping to pass exams or relax afterwards, cope with anxiety.’
Shona thought about the Sweet Life group and the haul of prescription drugs she’d found at the warehouse. ‘Have you been offered anything else? Pills?’ She’d ask Ravi to check with the campus officers and his contacts at the hospital if there had been any more incidents.
Becca shook her head slowly. ‘No. Oh God, you’re not coming in to school to do a talk, are you?’ Becca was so horrified Shona realised this might be the greatest punishment she could inflict.
‘These pills are really dangerous, Becca. You’ve no idea what you’re taking. Promise you’ll tell me if you’re offered, or even see, anything like that? It’s important.’
‘Okay, Mum. Chill out,’ Becca agreed. ‘One more thing.’ She bit her lip. ‘Dad doesn’t have to know, does he? I mean, I haven’t actually done anything wrong.’
‘You kidding?’ Shona almost laughed. ‘It will be all round Kirkness by this evening.’
Becca looked so alarmed that Shona thought she might start crying again. ‘Fess up, girl,’ Shona advised. ‘Right, let’s go home. You need to tell him before he hears from someone else. And you can also tell him you’re grounded for a month. School and home, that’s it.’ Shona held up her hand when it looked like Becca would protest. ‘And if you argue, I’m having your new phone as well.’
Chapter 14
At Monday’s case conference, Shona nodded to her team, ‘Morning everyone,’ then took a sip from her water bottle. It would be all round the station about Becca, but no one would dare say anything to her face. ‘Murdo, let’s get this briefing started.’
‘Couple of weekend incidents…’
‘Skip to the main event,’ Shona interrupted. ‘We’ll take the other updates later.’
‘Boss,’ Murdo acknowledged. A few clicks on his laptop keyboard and a clip from a motorway surveillance camera, frozen in grainy black and orange, appeared on the screen behind him. ‘Last night, the body of a young man was found on the hard shoulder of the A74(M) motorway. He appears to have fallen or been pushed from the back of a moving vehicle.’
