In Dark Water

by Lynne McEwan

  ‘Hello, sorry to scare you. DC Irving, isn’t it?’ He extended his hand and fixed her with his best smile. ‘I’ve heard good reports about your work. Cracked this baby milk case, I heard.’

  Kate blushed and took his hand. ‘A team effort, really. Weren’t expecting you, sir. The boss went home an hour ago.’

  ‘Oh, that’s fine, it’s a social call. I’m looking for Murdo,’ Baird reassured her. ‘Was in the area, thought I’d better get my old mate that pint I keep promising him.’

  ‘Have you called him?’ Kate asked. ‘He went out on a job this afternoon but I don’t know where he is now.’

  ‘I did call earlier, left a message.’ Baird pushed out his bottom lip in a comic display of petulance. ‘Can’t believe I’ve come all this way to see my old mate and he stands me up.’ He eyed her. ‘Don’t suppose you fancy a drink?’

  ‘Er, well…Yes,’ Kate stammered. ‘I’ve just finished here. I’ll get my coat.’

  ‘Excellent,’ he said brightly. ‘We’ll take my car. You know I haven’t eaten, maybe we should get a quick bite. Know anywhere nice?’

  It was a ten-minute drive to a small restaurant serving mid-priced Italian food that Kate told him she took her parents to when they visited. It was close to her flat and a safe choice for all appetites. Baird opened the restaurant door for her and asked the waiter for a quiet table for two. ‘Don’t want to scare the locals with shop talk, do we?’ He winked at Kate.

  They ordered, Baird insisting on a bottle of wine for Kate. He’d have one glass with his food, to toast her success with the baby milk case, but stick to mineral water after that since he was driving.

  The waiter brought the drinks, Baird encouraged her to tell him about herself, how she came into policing. She recounted how her father was a dentist, but she hadn’t wanted to follow in his footsteps and opted for geography at university as a subject that offered a broad choice of careers. She’d started as a special constable before she graduated and knew she’d found her perfect job.

  ‘A scientific background, that’s impressive,’ Baird said, topping up her glass. ‘We need a measured, analytical approach in modern policing. You know,’ he looked at her shrewdly, measuring her through half-closed eyes as if judging her worth, ‘it’s no secret that I’m in line for promotion.’

  ‘Really, sir? Congratulations,’ Kate said.

  He smiled, self-consciously modest. ‘Oh, I’m not there yet. But it will come, and when it does, I want top calibre officers for my team.’ He leaned across the table. ‘Think you’d be interested?’

  ‘Well,’ she said with a show of studied consideration that failed to hide her desire to bite his hand off, ‘I’d certainly think about it.’

  ‘Seems I’ll have to do my best to persuade you,’ he smiled. Their main courses arrived. He signalled the waiter for another bottle. ‘You see, I believe policing is about striking a balance. You’ll never wipe out crime completely, but with a carrot and stick approach you can make crime regulate itself. It’s always going to be there, but keeping it at its lowest possible integer is what we need.’

  Kate smiled. ‘Absolutely.’

  ‘I need people who break the mould. People who are not afraid to voice their opinions.’

  Kate nodded vigorously, swallowing a mouthful of pasta and picking up her wine glass, which Baird had quietly refilled.

  ‘For instance, what would you change locally?’ Baird said. ‘How would you do things differently?’

  Kate eyed him uncertainly. ‘Well, I wouldn’t want to appear disloyal… sir.’

  ‘No, of course, Kate,’ Baird soothed. ‘No one would think that. Look, you’re a talented officer who’s just cracked a complicated case. You know what you’re doing. I want to hear how you view the wider picture?’ He looked at her earnestly. The waiter had brought a candle to their table. Tiny reflected flames danced in Baird’s dark eyes. ‘And call me Gavin. Tonight, we’re just Gavin and Kate, two colleagues having a friendly chat.’ He reached over and squeezed her hand. He could see she was tipsy now. He smiled his encouragement.

  ‘Well, for instance, the baby… baby milk case,’ she said, stumbling a little. ‘We could have done with better tech support.’

  Baird nodded sagely. ‘Budget constraints. No magic money tree. What else?’ He took a sip of mineral water, watching her from the corner of his eye. She was flushed and had drunk almost two bottles of wine.

  ‘Wee Shona’s a good DI.’ She nodded her head emphatically.

  ‘Absolutely,’ Baird agreed, raising his glass of mineral water in a mock toast.

  ‘And I’m gonna be a good DI.’ She beckoned Baird closer. ‘Maybe even better, because I’m smart.’ She tapped the side of her head and attempted a wink. ‘Scientific,’ she said thickly. ‘One day they’ll all be calling me ma’am.’

  ‘I’m sure they will,’ he said earnestly, squeezing her hand again.

  ‘You see, I’m all for lias…’ it took her a few attempts to get the word out, ‘liaising with other forces, but this woman in the water, she wasn’t our case. Why are we wasting time on it?’

  He nodded. ‘Cumbria are dealing with that.’

  Kate held up a finger in triumph. ‘Ah, that’s what you think. Dan Ridley, sure he’s an okay officer, but why’s he always here?’ She shook her head. ‘Waste of resources. Close cases. That’s what we’re paid to do. Guy who fell from the van? If it looks like a duck, and it quacks…’ She blinked up at him having lost the thread of her thought. ‘Accident. Misadventure,’ she said finally. ‘Waste of resources.’

  ‘So, both those cases are still open?’ Baird said lightly.

  ‘Wide open.’ Kate threw her arms out for emphasis, nearly smacking a fully laden waiter on his way to another table. ‘Until the boss and her toy boy decide otherwise.’ Kate leaned her chin on the heel of her hand. ‘Poor procedure. You know… you know what the boss said? “Kate,” she said, “restrict your questions to the baby milk case,” like I’m the one who’s gone off-piste.’ She picked up her empty glass, then stared at the equally empty bottle. ‘Is there any more wine?’

  Baird made the waiter call her a taxi. Kate insisted she was fine; her flat was just round the corner. Why didn’t he come up? They could talk more over coffee. She was a pretty woman, the type he liked, willowy and blonde. But Baird thought she was also the type to go running to Professional Standards if he fucked her. His old mate Murdo wasn’t around but Irving had given him what he wanted. He made a show of waiting until the taxi came and saw her off. Then he came back, paid the bill, tipped the waiter handsomely so he’d remember him and set off back home to Glasgow. As he drove, the headlights of oncoming cars settled in the deep frown between his eyebrows. He’d told Shona Oliver to stop. She’d disobeyed him. It was time to do some digging. He’d call mates in London, get the gossip around her departure. Whatever happened now, she’d brought this on herself.

  * * *

  The next morning Dan arrived at Dumfries HQ just before eight o’clock. He knew he was early, but he wanted to get cracking. Murdo was at his desk in the CID room, several of the civilian support staff already busy at work. Shona motivated people to do their best; it was lucky he’d run into her that day at Silloth. His fortunes as a police officer were changing, he could feel it. Maybe he wouldn’t apply to the Met. Instead, he’d come to Dumfries when the next vacancy arose. Murdo looked tired when he came over. ‘Dan, pal. Good to see you.’

  Dan held up a computer stick drive. ‘Got this from a responsible citizen at the opposite end of the road from Jamie Buckland’s place,’ he said excitedly. ‘Bit posher there. They have front gardens, paved over. Bloke has a motor home parked on it. His missus says, “It’s my husband’s pride and joy, gets more attention than I do. He’s got a camera trained on it day and night. He’ll show you when he gets home from work.” Had to wait for a bit, but I got it. CCTV of Buckland from a week ago. The boss will want to see this.’ He paused, seeing Murdo’s serious face. ‘What’s the
matter?’

  ‘Well, the boss might have other things on her plate this morning.’ Murdo updated Dan on what had happened to Becca the night before.

  ‘Shit, is Becca okay? Is Wee Shona okay?’

  ‘We’re both fine,’ said a voice behind them. Shona swept into her office and stowed her bag under the desk. She looked pale and there were dark circles under her eyes that the subtle make-up she was wearing failed to disguise. Dan and Murdo came sheepishly to her door. ‘Really, Becca’s okay,’ said Shona. ‘Going to be off school for a while, which she’s delighted about. Murdo,’ she gave him a grateful smile, ‘thank you for stepping up, last night.’

  ‘No bother, boss. ID-ed a potential car belonging to one of the lads’ mothers. Ravi’s gone to lift it this morning.’

  ‘Good.’ She turned to Dan. ‘What’s this about Buckland?’

  ‘CCTV from a neighbour. No sign of Buckland for the last three days, but there’s footage from a week ago that’s interesting,’ said Dan, handing over the stick.

  Murdo indicated he was leaving them to it while he got on with other work and chased up the whereabouts of DC Kate Irving, who hadn’t showed up yet and wasn’t answering the phone. ‘Probably in the shower doing that hair stuff that women do.’ He waved his hands uncertainly over his head.

  ‘You mean washing her hair?’ Shona said with amusement. ‘Don’t you wash your hair, Murdo?’

  ‘Aye, I do.’ He rubbed his shorn scalp. ‘But I don’t take all day about it.’

  Shona grinned. ‘Give her five minutes and call again. Kate’s never usually late.’ She slotted the stick into her laptop and motioned Dan to pull up a chair. ‘Skip to the good part, will you?’ She left him to set the CCTV going while she texted Becca at the hospital to say she’d be in this afternoon.

  ‘This is it.’ Dan turned the screen towards her. In the background, behind the white bulk of a camper van, an altercation was taking place between Jamie Buckland and a second man, who pinned him up against a car and punched him several times. Buckland fell to the ground, clutching his face as the man continued to kick him.

  ‘When was this?’ said Shona, pulling the laptop closer.

  ‘Last week,’ said Dan. ‘There’s more, the neighbour thinks she saw a girl matching Isla’s description at the house back in the summer. Her husband only keeps the files for a month then deletes them, so I can’t go any further back to check, unfortunately.’

  ‘So, this is from a week ago, just before Jamie disappeared?’ Shona reran the clip. The assailant stepped back from the car and straightened the jacket of his expensive suit, brushing down the sleeves.

  ‘Wazir said Jamie was Isla’s pimp. He must have had other girls. Could this be a dissatisfied punter?’ Dan said.

  ‘Maybe.’ Shona squinted at the screen. ‘You know, he looks familiar. Just let me ask our local walking Wikipedia.’ She leaned back in her chair and bellowed, ‘Murdo!’ through the open office door. ‘Let’s test the geographical boundaries of his gift for faces.’

  Murdo studied the footage then shook his head. ‘Nope, don’t know him. Vicious bugger, isn’t he.’ He ran the clip again. ‘He must have form though, look at him. Practised. Professional. Delivers a beating and there’s not a mark on himself. Suit’s immaculate. Wouldn’t look out of place in an expensive restaurant. Want me to chase him through the files, boss?’

  But Shona was staring at the man. An expensive restaurant. Murdo was right, that was where he’d be at home. That’s exactly where she’d seen him. Shaking hands, mingling with businessmen in a glitzy restaurant of Glasgow’s top hotel. Having private chats. Private chats with DCI Gavin Baird against the background of celebrity businessman Kenny Hanlon and his glamorous STAC reception. ‘No, it’s okay Murdo,’ Shona said with a creeping sense of unease. ‘You can leave this with me for now.’

  Chapter 23

  Shona sent Dan and Murdo to check with uniform for any local sightings of Jamie Buckland in Dumfries while she paced the office. She was exhausted and the persistent pain was growing again behind her eyes. She ran through her options; they all came back to Baird. What he’d said was no more than any budget-conscious senior officer might say to his DI. But still there was something wrong. A picture comprised of jigsaw pieces forced together. When you looked closely, they didn’t quite fit. All she had was a corrupted video file and the vague sense she was being threatened.

  She passed her hand across her eyes. There was only one way to deal with this. She couldn’t go around him, she’d have to tackle him head-on. Sami and Isla’s deaths couldn’t be the main focus of her enquiries, but Imran Wazir had linked them to Jamie Buckland and the baby milk case and that was high on Baird’s list of priorities. She shut her office door, lowered the blinds and picked up her phone. His number rang once.

  ‘Morning, Shona.’ Baird’s voice was hard, but the unexpected call put an uncertain edge to it, the cadence skipping up at the end as if a hidden question mark was lurking there.

  ‘Morning, sir,’ Shona said evenly. ‘I’ve a quick technical query. Hope you don’t mind me calling?’

  ‘Fire away.’ The claustrophobic silence in the background told her he was on his own. She knew she should probably step back, think it through. She was tired, she might miss something, but it was that very tiredness that drove her on. She was fed up with Baird blocking her, sick of people’s passive lack of concern. A man and a woman were dead on her patch and she would not stop until she found out who had done this and why. It’s a debt we owe to the dead, her sergeant used to say. It was a debt that must be paid before friends and family could move on and find whatever peace they could.

  ‘I’ve been looking at some Op Fortress footage, a loose end connected with the baby milk case.’ She reasoned this would divert his initial objection. ‘Now, it may be a technical hitch, in which case I thought I better give you a heads up, but small sections of the surveillance on Carter Street are missing.’ She let the question hang in the silence that followed.

  ‘I know,’ he said, eventually. ‘It’s to protect the identity of a witness.’

  ‘Okay.’ Shona knew Baird must have personally authorised it. ‘The person who’s been removed may also be a vital witness in the baby milk case. I need to interview the individual concerned,’ she gambled.

  This time, the pause was so long that Shona wondered if their connection had been cut. ‘That individual is not your concern.’ Baird’s reply was a low growl.

  ‘Why not, sir? It’s procedurally appropriate—’

  Baird cut her off. ‘Are you not listening to me?’ She could hear him breathing heavily and imagined his face puce with anger. ‘Look,’ he said eventually. ‘We have someone on the inside. He’s still in play. His codename is Archer. That’s all you need to know. He is no part of your inquiry. Understand? Op Fortress is not your concern.’

  Whoever this individual, was, they potentially had contact with Jamie Buckland. Now that Buckie was a bail absconder it was a valid line of enquiry, but Baird hadn’t even asked her why she wanted to speak to Archer. ‘But, sir…’

  ‘I know why you’re really calling. I know you’re pursuing the motorway death and that drowned addict you fished out of the sea.’ Baird’s voice dropped to a hiss. ‘Now, what you get up to with Cumbrian constables in your own time is your own business, but do yourself a favour, send DC Ridley back over the border and wrap up these cases. Maybe you’re missing the bright lights of London. Maybe you’re out to make a name for yourself, I don’t care. Take a telling, Oliver. This is your final warning. If you disobey my direct order, I will instigate disciplinary proceedings against you. Have I made myself clear?’

  Shona picked up a paperclip, bending it back until the point pierced her finger. For a moment she was tempted to lash out at him. She was an experienced DI with fifteen years in the City Police behind her. She knew what she was doing. How good a detective was he? She remembered the scene in the STAC reception corridor. Nicola Baird and her paramour. Did he, fo
r example, know his wife was playing away with Kenny Hanlon?

  But to win your battles you needed to choose your ground, and Shona knew she couldn’t win this particular skirmish. Baird would bring the full weight of the Division down on her and crush her. She wanted to ask him about the man who’d assaulted Jamie, the man she’d seen talking to Baird and Hanlon at the STAC reception. Did they know he was a businessman who hopped over the border to visit prostitutes in Carlisle? Maybe even purchase some recreational drugs? But she knew she was wasting her breath. A single drop of blood fell from her finger and stained the carpet. ‘Yes, sir,’ she said and hung up.

  How did Baird know she was still pursuing both enquiries? No Divisional paperwork had been submitted so the cases were technically still open. But it was more than that. That crack about Cumbrian constables. Shona felt herself redden. There was no truth in it, but it was so personal that it could only have come from somebody in her office. There was always fun to be had at the boss’s expense, and she wouldn’t be the first copper to have an office affair, but this was someone whose loyalty was wavering, someone who had spied greener pastures. She rolled up the blinds and cast her eyes around the CID office until it came to rest on just the person to help her solve the mystery.

  ‘Kate,’ she called. ‘Have you got a minute?’

  DC Irving looked pale and sickly; strands of her blonde hair had squirmed loose from her pony tail.

  ‘Listen, Kate.’ Shona closed the office door but remained standing. She beckoned her closer, tilting her face up at the much taller constable. ‘You’re a mate of Vinny Visuals. What’s he been saying?’

  ‘Nothing, I think,’ stammered Kate. ‘Why?’

  ‘Someone’s been mouthing off to Baird about our case load and,’ Shona paused, searching for a suitable term, ‘operational matters beyond their pay grade.’

  Kate turned an even paler shade. Shona considered how Vinny Visuals had probably gone straight to Baird, covering his arse when he first saw there was footage missing from the surveillance record. Well, if he wanted pastures new, that’s what he would get. Next appraisal he’d be out.