by Zach Abrams
Alex paused for thought. The webcam security must be a fairly recent addition. He was sure it couldn't have been there the night he'd gone to visit Stevenson. He remembered that night as if it was yesterday. In the lead up to it, and by stark contrast to her previous berating about his commitment to his job, Helen had nagged and nagged him to do something to get back her aunt's precious belongings. He'd remembered the stinging accusations querying what point was there in being married to a workaholic senior police officer when he couldn't protect his own family. Their relationship had been struggling for some time and he'd convinced himself he'd work to save it. Against his better judgement, he'd researched where Stevenson lived and 'paid him a little visit' in the early hours of the morning. He remembered Stevenson answered his door wearing his striped pyjamas and Alex had been amused thinking he resembled a cartoon impression of a convict. But that was where the humour ended. He assertively invited himself into the house and suggested Stevenson might want to do the right thing. When his request had been met with derision, Alex, for the only time in his career, used his fists to add persuasion. He'd come away from Stevenson with what he'd come for together with bruised knuckles and a deep sense of remorse. Alex was certain Stevenson could not have had his video surveillance at that time. If he had, it would be inconceivable Stevenson wouldn't have used it and he'd have been one of Stevenson's blackmail targets. Most probably, the system had been installed as a result of his visit.
When Alex returned home with his booty, Helen had been waiting for him. She'd stayed up through the night watching television and there were only the dregs left in a bottle of Pinot Grigio which was sitting on the table. She'd been dressed in a skimpy nightdress and negligee. When he opened the door and let himself into the lounge, she'd seemed so happy to see him back and asked for the details of what had happened. When she realised he'd recovered the valuables, she'd walked over to him and touched his face. She'd caressed his swollen fingers, literally licking his wounds, then passionately she embraced him. He could taste the sweet wine on her lips and thought he also detected something stronger, vodka perhaps. She took a half step back to give her space to strip off his jacket, letting it drop to the floor. She then undid his belt and pulled down his zip, sliding his trousers over his hips to fall around his ankles. She lifted his hands, holding them against her breasts, and then kissed him deeply again. Fired by the adrenaline and the excitement of the evening, Alex was powerless to resist. They had sex there and then on the lounge floor, urgent and frantic. Alex couldn't think of it as making love, it wasn't, it was pure animal behaviour. They'd been lost in the moment, oblivious to anyone or anything else. Their passionate cries could have disturbed the boys. They might have come in to see what had been going on and Alex and Helen would never have known. Afterwards they hadn't spoken. In the morning, Alex had gone to work early and Helen had gone to bed.
Alex had felt dirty. At Stevenson's house, he'd acted totally out of character, behaving like a thug, not a law enforcement officer, all to satisfy Helen's demands. He'd compromised his values because she'd pushed him to do it and then 'rewarded' him on his return in the most basic of ways. He'd felt really bad about it afterwards and it was the final straw in their already overstrained relationship. It wasn't that he had any sympathy for Stevenson. Quite the reverse, he detested the man. Alex's and Helen's relationship had never recovered. They could hardly talk to each other and they'd never been intimate since that night. They'd grown further apart and a little over a year ago, they'd separated and filed for divorce.
His mind returned to the present.
“Now, Sandra, what else do we have?”
“First they tried to open the safe in the shop and found they couldn't. They've still not been able to and have sent off to get a special key. But they did pick the lock on the cash box. Inside was about fifty quid in notes and cash and there was also a set of keys, two Yales and a Mortice, and another little key, the sort you see used in a strong padlock. They keys looked like they could be house keys but they're not for Stevenson's home. We're making some enquiries but so far, we have no idea where they're for. Not a lot more than that, whoever we're up against seems to be really smart. He seems to know what we're going to be looking for and how, and he's taken steps to stop us getting anything valuable. There was one other thing in Connor's report. Although the electronic devices were all smashed up, there was a DVD disk still in the DVD recorder. It was a porn disk, pretty hard core and not the sort of thing you would buy at HMV. It probably had to be bought over the internet and it's got nothing to do with our case, but the guy didn't think to check the player and remove it. It could have contained anything.”
“Well, that's reassuring. It shows us he's not infallible. Right, let's move on. Sandra, I want you to assign someone to track down where the safe deposit key came from. Donny, I want you to number each of these photos and then scan them onto the computer, that way we can all access them at the same time. I'll put together a database, and once I've done that, I want each of us to categorise every picture so we can batch them according to who's in it and what's been going on. We can pick out all the ones with the same whore and - or the same punter. We can pick out all the straight, gay, bondage or role-plays. I want us to know who and what we're dealing with. Afterwards, the next step is to put names to the faces.”
“Faces?” Sandra enquired, repeating her earlier quip.
“Well, we've certainly got a few pretty unique features to focus on, but we're going to have to keep straight-faced and just work through this like any other job.”
Alex and Sandra looked at each other, and when their eyes met, they both roared with laughter. Donny McAvoy looked from one to the other, not seeing the humour, but he was too embarrassed to admit his lack of understanding.
“So who'll be doing what?” Sandra enquired.
“Let's all take turns,” Donny suggested. “I'll start picking out the whores. You can seek out the punters,” he said, looking at Sandra, “and the Boss can allocate them based on what they've been doing. Then after an hour or so we can switch round to have some variety.”
“Not a bad idea, Donny, but I reckon it would be better if we each stuck with the same task throughout. That way we'll become more familiar looking for the same thing. I'll go with the allocation you've suggested. Where there appears to be a set of photos from the same meeting, if I can call it that, put them all into the same category. Now if there's no other questions then let's get started. You can ask me anything else as we go along.”
Once the photos were scanned, they all worked their way through them and were careful and diligent in their analysis. After an hour they broke for coffee, then did the same after a further hour.
Plenty of quips passed amongst them which helped break the tension.
Donny started it by asking, “Have you two had a look at number twenty-two yet? I didn't know that was possible.”
Sandra replied, “I think you've got your numbering wrong, sixty-nine should never be like that.”
Alex also contributed, “Look at one hundred and seventy-three. Why on earth would a good looking girl like that be with such a wrinkled old prune?”
“Money,” came the reply from Sandra and Donny in perfect unison.
Their work was interrupted shortly before five pm. A call came in to inform Alex of some good news: the key had been traced. The description was consistent with ones used by the Canadian International Bank who had offices in Bath Street, just to the west of the city centre. In addition, the number engraved on the key was within one of the sequences used by the bank. There weren't many banks which still used the old-style keys with single microchip implants but some customers preferred the less complicated style, particularly as they still kept their own keys and didn't have to reveal their identity whenever they wanted access. Unfortunately, the bank was already closed to the public for the weekend and no member of staff with sufficient seniority was available to help. The manager had been in London all week for a conference and was
n't due back in Glasgow until Sunday night and the senior clerk had already left for the evening and couldn't be traced. An appointment was made for early on Monday morning and the bank confirmed the manager would make himself available to provide any help they needed that he was permitted to give. Alex noted the condition, and just to play it safe, he put in a request for a search warrant, giving him unrestricted access to the box. It was probably unnecessary but Alex wanted to ensure against any failure to cooperate or the bank manager being pedantic about paperwork. He also wanted to guard against the possibility of a smart solicitor destabilising any future case claiming information had been acquired by improper means. Being the weekend, it could take time to obtain authority and it could well be Monday before they were ready to roll. So although the senior bank staff were not available, they hadn't really lost any time. They continued with their task for a couple of more hours. By seven-fifteen, they had finished the three lists and the database was complete and populated. The table was covered in used Styrofoam cups from the regular caffeine top-ups they'd collected from the vending machine. The buttons they'd pressed had said coffee, but as experienced detectives, they had their suspicions. They were all shattered, none of them wanting to see another naked photograph for a very long time.
As a DCI, Alex didn't have to work the shift patterns required by the more junior officers, but he nevertheless worked whenever required. On this particular weekend, he'd been scheduled to take time off and he'd planned to have his sons stay with him. He'd planned a whole itinerary to keep them occupied and entertained. He was meant to pick them up from Helen at seven-thirty and keep them until Sunday night. With him only being allocated the case yesterday, it was still at a crucial stage and he wanted to stay in control of it. He was in a dilemma as he loved his boys and treasured the time he was allowed to spend with them. Against this, he needed to be giving his attention to the case. Alex was all too aware that it was his dedication to his job which sowed the seeds resulting in his marriage break up in the first place. Helen couldn't tolerate the erratic hours, the phone calls in the middle of the night and the cancelled or ruined holidays. Their relationship had been breaking down for some time before the Stevenson incident, and after it they could hardly speak to one another. It wasn't long before Helen brought someone else into her life, someone who could give her the attention she wanted. At first, Alex had been angry, wanting to kill them both for their disloyalty and deception. The divorce had not been pleasant and Helen had been awarded custody with Alex having regular visitation rights, with Craig and Andrew permitted to stay with him one weekend a month. They then settled into a relationship where they tolerated each other's' needs for the sake of the boys. Over time, Alex had come to realise how difficult it had been for Helen and how he had most certainly driven her away by prioritising his work. The anger was out of their fight and they tried to cooperate, verging on being amicable, to minimise the complications for the boys. This weekend was for him, Craig and Andrew. He couldn't let that go. But by compromise, Alex accepted he would have to carry his mobile everywhere with him and call in periodically.
Chapter 6
Alex phoned Helen before leaving the office to explain he was running late and he was pleasantly surprised not to suffer her normal berating.
After their split, and by mutual agreement so as to minimise the disruption to the boys, Helen kept the family home. It was a detached bungalow located in Clarkston, an affluent suburb to the south of Glasgow, only a couple of miles from Maggie Stevenson's nursing home.
Just after 8.00 pm, Alex drove along the narrow crescent and parked the Santa Fe half on the pavement. It was already dark and his footsteps crunched on the red blaze pathway announcing his arrival. The door was opened by Helen before he had the opportunity to knock. There was a loud yelp as Jake, their four-year-old mongrel, squeezed through the doorway and excitedly circled Alex jumping up and down to try to get his full attention.
Alex squatted down to hug the animal and rough up his fur, not too concerned about covering his clothes in dog hairs. Alex had always loved Jake and the feeling was mutual. It had broken Alex's heart to leave him behind when he moved out of the house, but he was also the boys' dog and, as Alex was out working long hours, leaving him here was the kindest solution. They had no knowledge of the dog's parentage as, similar to all of their pets, Jake had been rescued from the Cardonald Dog and Cat Home. It was obvious from his look that he'd been mainly Alsatian, probably with a bit of Labrador because of his soft mouth. He had short black hair with a white patch on his chest and tan coloured socks. His long, kinked tail looked as if it had been broken at some time and rotated in a circle instead of wagging when he was happy.
Turning his attention, he saw Helen come through the door. She was five years younger than Alex, trim and attractive. Not too far short of six feet tall, she was slim and elegant. Although she had a very healthy appetite, working out at the gym three times a week helped her keep her weight under control and her muscles toned. Her cascade of blonde curls framed her face and rested on her shoulders. Her skin was smooth with a sun-bed induced orange glow and her powder blue eyes were bright and sparkling.
She stepped out from the entranceway and half closed the door behind her to give them a moment's privacy. “I saw on the news about Scott Stevenson being found dead in his shop. Is that true?”
“Yes, it happened yesterday afternoon.”
“Do you know yet who did it? I'd like to give him a medal.”
“It's early days yet and you know I can't talk about it.”
“Oh! Does that mean you're involved?”
“It's being dealt with by my department, but I can't say any more.”
Helen stepped aside to let him in.
Craig and Andrew were sitting in the lounge watching television, each had an overnight bag on the floor beside them containing their essentials, a toothbrush, a couple of changes of clothes and, of course, their iPhones.
Craig was fourteen, tall and skinny with angular features. He seemed to be all arms and legs. He'd inherited his father's bright green eyes but his shock of hair was thick and the same colour as his mother's. No matter how much he combed it, it inevitably hung with straggly ends pointing in all directions. Dressed in the standard uniform for his age of jeans and T-shirt, he wore the stern, disinterested look often associated with teenagers.
Being twelve, Andrew still carried a layer of puppy fat. He had a round, smiling face with laughing eyes, and although considerably smaller and a couple of years younger than his sibling, he seemed to have a greater inner strength supported by a wisdom and a sense of humour which was beyond his years.
“Hi, Dad,” they each called in tandem as they stood and picked up their bags, pecked their mother on the cheek and made their way out the door.
“Is Colin not about?” Alex ventured, referring to Helen's live-in partner.
“He's in the kitchen. Why? Did you want to see him?”
“No, that's okay. I just wondered.” Without thinking, Alex gave Helen's shoulder an affectionate squeeze as he followed the boys. She had to hold Jake's collar to prevent him forcing his way into the car with them. Alex would have loved to take Jake with them for the weekend, as he had done many times in the past, but he had outings planned for the lads which would not be suitable for the dog and it would have been cruel to leave him for long periods just sitting in the flat or the car.
“Right lads, off to the cinema. I'm running a wee bit late, and I've not eaten yet, so we'll just head straight to the Odeon and I can get a hot dog there. Have you decided what you want to see?”
“Andrew wants to see the new 'Tin Tin' film, but I think it will be too childish,” Craig answered.
“I think it might be quite good. Although it's an animation, Steven Spielberg directed it, and the reviews have been good,” Alex replied.
“There's nothing else on anyway that I'm old enough to get into,” Andrew added, “at least nothing worth seeing.”
“Well, I guess that's decided then,” Craig moped.
“Come on, give it a fair chance. Now what are you both wanting to eat and drink?”
They drove to the Odeon multiplex at Springfield Quay, by the side of the River Clyde, and found a space in the massive open car park. Despite themselves, both kids enjoyed the film, gorging themselves with popcorn, sweets and Irn Bru. In the comfort, heat and darkness, and following his near sleepless night, Alex struggled to stay awake.
Andrew was the one yawning when they arrived back at Alex's flat at 11.30. It was a late night for the boys but it wasn't a school night and they could all have a lie in on Saturday.
Alex was up early and had the table set with bowls and plates, orange juice and assorted boxes of cereal, together with milk, butter and jam. Freshly made toast and hot tea was added when the boys arrived
“Eat up, lads, we've got a full day planned and you'll need all your energy.” Alex was setting an example munching into a slice of brown bread toast spread thickly with marmalade.
After breakfast, Alex ensured both boys had their swimming trunks and towels then they set off for Eastwood Swimming Baths. The pool was of a good standard, twenty-five metres in length with separate children's and spa pools. One entire wall was constructed from glass, giving an attractive outlook onto trees and grass. The setting was magnificent, sitting in the middle of Eastwood Park, between St. Ninian's High School and the East Renfrewshire Council buildings. Alex purchased their tickets and they made their way to the changing area. The boys had donned their costumes, deposited their clothes in a locker and found their way into the water long before Alex was ready to join them. Craig and Andrew were both competent swimmers and represented their school in competitions in their respective age groups. They were all having good fun, swimming and playing games in the water, when Craig swam off by himself, powering his way through the water at great speed. Alex looked on concerned until Andrew explained by pointing to a couple girls of similar age to Craig who were watching him, clearly impressed. Alex struggled trying not to laugh. After completing four fast lengths of the pool, Craig glided to the sidewall beside the girls and they started talking. After a few minutes, the girls made off to join a larger group and Craig re-joined them. His face was bright red from embarrassment but he was also grinning from ear to ear.
