by Bill Daly
‘Not another hit and run?’ Charlie fixed Tony with a stare.
‘Nothing like that. Dad thinks she might have a touch of summer flu. I’d like to go down to Saltcoats and try to cheer her up.’
‘Niggle’s press conference is at nine o’clock tomorrow morning and it’s a three line whip. We all have to be there. Why don’t you wait until after the conference and go down to see your mother then? You can have a couple of days off in lieu of overtime – you’ve earned it.’
‘Okay, thanks. I’ll do that.’
‘In which case, let’s go across to Barlinnie now and have another go at Hunter.’
‘Dates and time, Hunter,’ Charlie stated. ‘Dates and times.’
Alec Hunter, sitting on the opposite side of the table in the interview room, eyed Charlie and Tony suspiciously. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘If you’re going to stick to your story that you had nothing to do with the first three murders,’ Charlie said, ‘you’re going to have to come up with a credible alibi for what you were doing at the time those murders took place.’
Tony referred to the sheet of paper in his hand. ‘Monday, twentieth June at nine a.m. – Irene McGowan. Tuesday, twenty first of June at twelve thirty – Zoe Taylor. Thursday, twenty third of June at twelve o’clock – Pete Johnston. Where were you and what were you doing on those days, at those times?’
‘You must be joking!’ Hunter shook his head. ‘I don’t keep a fucking diary.’
‘It was only last week,’ Charlie said. ‘It’s in your own interest to think hard about where you were, because if you can’t account for what you were doing, we’re going to throw the book at you for all four murders.’
‘Jesus Christ!’ Hunter rubbed hard at his chin. ‘I was with Terry McKay most of the time.’
‘You’re not helping your cause,’ Tony said.
‘Wait a minute!’ Hunter snapped his fingers. ‘You said one of them was last Tuesday?’
‘Yes.’
‘At half-past twelve?’
‘That’s right,’ Charlie said.
‘I was with McKay in Woodlands Road.’
‘Is there anyone who can vouch for that?’
‘Tommy Matheson, in the chippie. We normally do our rounds on Tuesday afternoons, but we went across early last Tuesday, just after half past twelve, to lean on Matheson because he was behind with his payments.’
‘For your sake, you better hope he remembers your visit,’ Tony said.
‘He’ll remember it all right,’ Hunter said sheepishly, his cheeks reddening. ‘I dipped his fingers into his deep-fat fryer.’
There was an early-evening chill in the air when Charlie and Tony walked out of the gates of Barlinnie and headed towards their cars, which were parked side by side.
‘By the way,’ Charlie called across as he was unlocking his door. ‘Remind me. What hospital was it that you were sent to on a wild goose?’
‘Crosshouse,’ Tony said. ‘Why?’
‘I just wondered.’
CHAPTER 18
Wednesday 29 June
Charlie got to his office before eight o’clock. He was tugging off his jacket when he noticed a sealed envelope with his name printed on it, lying in the middle of his blotting pad. He slit the envelope open with his paper knife and slipped on his reading glasses. Sitting down, he read the hand-written page.
Grabbing his phone, he dialled a number. ‘We’ll go with Plan B,’ he stated tersely.
Charlie slouched on the long wooden bench at the back of the interview room, Malcolm Stuart by his side. At the front of the room, Superintendent Hamilton was basking in the television camera arc lights as he sat in front of a battery of microphones.
‘Where the hell’s Tony?’ Charlie whispered in Malcolm’s ear.
‘I haven’t seen him all morning, sir.’
As the wall clock flicked across to nine o’clock, Hamilton got to his feet to deliver his prepared statement. When he’d finished speaking, he sat down and announced that he was prepared to take questions. They came thick and fast.
‘Do you have proof that Terry McKay was involved in all four murders?’
‘Alec Hunter has confessed to being present when McKay slit Harry Brady’s throat. He took us to where they’d buried Brady’s body.’
‘Has Hunter admitted his involvement in the other killings?’
‘Not at this stage, but we’re still questioning him. However, the similarity of the modus operandi means it’s likely that McKay and Hunter were the perpetrators of all four murders.’
‘What was their motive?’
‘That has still to be established, although it’s clear that the animosity McKay bore towards DCI Anderson was a significant factor.’
‘Was Terry McKay resisting arrest when he was killed?’
‘That matter is subject to an inquiry. I am not prepared to speculate on the outcome.’
‘Was McKay carrying a gun?’
‘Again, pending the inquiry, I’m not in a position to make any comment.’
‘What’s the situation regarding DC Stuart?’ Malcolm felt his throat go dry.
‘As a matter of procedure, there will be a formal investigation by the Complaints and Disciplinary Branch, following which the Procurator Fiscal will make the decision as to whether or not to initiate criminal proceedings.’ Malcolm’s fists clenched involuntarily. ‘However,’ Hamilton continued, ‘what I can tell you is that two experienced officers were present at the scene of the incident and they both saw McKay reach for what was presumably a weapon.’ Malcolm’s fists slowly relaxed. ‘The arresting officer, DCI Anderson, is with us this morning.’ Hamilton waved his hand in the general direction of the back of the room. A sea of faces turned round and Charlie was momentarily blinded by cameras flashing in his direction. ‘I would like to take this opportunity to offer my congratulations to DCI Anderson and his team for the excellent job they did in identifying Terry McKay as Harry Brady’s killer. Of course McKay’s death was regrettable,’ Hamilton droned on, ‘however, those who live by the sword…’
Hamilton’s squeaky voice seemed to rise a notch with every crowing response, his tone becoming ever more triumphalist. ‘Year to date, my division has an excellent record of solving serious crimes on our patch. I doubt you’ll find a better performance anywhere in the country. Wouldn’t you agree, Miss Gibbons?’ he said, grinning inanely at Fran who was sitting in the front row.
‘Miss Gibbons,’ Charlie muttered to Malcolm. ‘Big mistake.’
‘Once again, you seem to be manipulating the statistics, Superintendent,’ Fran retorted.
Hamilton studiously ignored her comment and waved his hand to take a question from a reporter in the middle of the room.
When the questions had died to a trickle, Charlie whispered to Malcolm. ‘I’m going to make myself scarce. I don’t want to have to face the vulture pack at the end of the session. If anyone asks, I was called away urgently. I’ll see you back in my office when it’s over.’ Getting to his feet, he slipped quietly from the room.
Charlie had his head buried in paperwork when Malcolm walked into his office fifteen minutes later. ‘Did I miss anything interesting?’ Charlie asked, screwing the top back onto his fountain pen.
‘Just the cat polishing off the cream, sir. Any news of Tony?’
‘He got a puncture on the way to work and the stupid idiot’s spare was flat. He had to call out the AA. He didn’t get here until five minutes ago. He’s gone for coffees.’
Tony nudged the office door open with his toe cap. ‘Hi, Malcolm. Sorry, I didn’t get you one,’ he said, placing the two plastic cups he was carrying on cardboard coasters on Charlie’s desk.
‘We’ve all worked too many hours recently,’ Charlie said, standing up and arching his back. ‘I think we’ve earned ourselves an afternoon off – and I fancy something a bit stronger than coffee. How about a wee libation, boys?’
‘I wouldn’t take a lot of persuading, sir,’ Malcolm sa
id, grinning as he glanced at Tony.
‘How about you, Tony?’ Charlie said.
‘Count me in. What about Renton? Shouldn’t we invite him?’
‘Colin had to go to the dentist’s this morning,’ Charlie said. ‘His wisdom tooth was giving him gyp.’
‘I’ve got an idea,’ Tony said, snapping his fingers. ‘How about we go across to my place? Despite Malcolm’s last visit, the malt supplies are still in a reasonably healthy state.’
‘Look who’s talking,’ Malcolm said. ‘I wasn’t the one pissed out of my brains at two o’clock in the morning!’
‘Love-fifteen,’ Charlie said.
Tony drove his car up the ramp out of the Pitt Street car park with Malcolm in the passenger seat and Charlie in the back.
‘Do you think you’ll be appearing on the telly again this week, sir?’ Malcolm said, twisting round in his seat to face Charlie.
‘Not if I can help it.’
‘If you do,’ Tony said, ‘I suggest you ask for a bit more make-up. Your cheeks were turning a delicate shade of pink towards the end of the programme.’
‘You’re getting far too big for your boots, my lad,’ Charlie growled. ‘Just for that, I’m going to put a fucking big hole in your malt supplies.’
As they were hopping from one red traffic light to the next along Great Western Road, Charlie tapped Tony on the shoulder. ‘Drop me off at the tobacconist on the corner. I fancy a big Havana.’
‘I didn’t know you smoked.’
‘I haven’t touched the weed in years, but I’m going to make today an exception. Anyone care to join me?’ They both declined as Tony pulled up by the kerb to let Charlie out.
Tony found a place to park at the end of Wilton Street, then he and Malcolm climbed the tenement staircase together. ‘You know where the whisky supplies are kept,’ Tony said as he was unlocking his apartment door. ‘Go ahead and choose your poison while I go for a leak.’
Tony eased his apartment door open quietly to let Charlie in. Placing his index finger across his lips, he pointed in the direction of his half-open bedroom door. They both moved silently across the hall.
‘Is this what you’re looking for?’ Charlie asked.
Malcolm was on all fours on the bedroom floor, tugging a suitcase out from under Tony’s bed. When he heard the gruff voice behind him, he spun round. Charlie was framed in the doorway, a pair of wrap-round sunglasses in one hand, a baseball cap in the other. Tony was standing by his side, a hacksaw blade in his left hand, his right arm fully extended with a pistol trained on Malcolm’s head.
Malcolm scrambled to his feet. ‘What the hell’s going on?’
‘How about you answer that question?’ Charlie said.
‘I… I was just…’
‘You were just, what?’ Tony said.
Malcolm’s eyes narrowed. ‘Why don’t you go and fuck yourself!’
‘Now we’re getting somewhere,’ Charlie said. ‘Why did you pick on Tony to frame? After all, he comes from your side of the divide.’
‘Calls himself Irish!’ Malcolm spat out the words. ‘He’s worse than useless! He lets the Orange bastards tramp all over him and all he does is whinge about missing out on his promotion.’
Tony strode across the room and grabbed Malcolm by the shoulders. Spinning him round, he dragged his hands behind his back and snapped on the handcuffs.
Charlie led the way down the staircase to Tony’s car. He guided Malcolm’s head down as he pushed him into the back seat and climbed in after him. Tony got into the driver’s seat and fired the ignition.
‘Where to, sir?’
‘Maryhill nick. I’ll call ahead and let them know we’re coming,’ Charlie said, pulling out his mobile.
Charlie recognised the sergeant behind the desk ‘Take very good care of this one, Dave. He’s big trouble.’ Charlie turned to Malcolm. ‘Malcolm Stuart,’ he intoned. ‘I am arresting you for the murders of Irene McGowan, Zoe Taylor and Pete Johnston. You do not have to say anything. However, it may harm your defence if you do not mention, when questioned, something you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence.’
As soon as he got back to Pitt Street, Charlie hurried up the stairs to his office. Checking a phone number, he picked up his handset and called Fran Gibbons.
CHAPTER 19
Charlie and Tony sat side by side in Nigel Hamilton’s office, waiting for the four o’clock conference call with the Met’s Counter Terrorism Command to come through.
‘How the hell did Fran Gibbons manage to get hold of the story?’ Hamilton fumed. ‘I’ve just had the Chief on the blower and he’s spitting blood. He got home from holiday this afternoon and he switched on the television just in time to catch Gibbons delivering a breaking news exclusive about Malcolm Stuart being a three-time serial killer.’
Charlie and Tony exchanged a puzzled glance. ‘I’ve no idea.’ Charlie shrugged.
Hamilton shook his head in exasperation. ‘Why wasn’t I informed about Stuart’s involvement before I went in front of the press?’
‘I didn’t find out until it was too late,’ Charlie lied. ‘I was called out of the press conference to take an urgent call from Tony.’
‘I was planning to go down to Saltcoats for a couple of days to see my mother as soon as the press conference was over,’ Tony interjected. ‘So before coming in to work this morning, I went to pack a few things. When I took my overnight bag out from under my bed, I found a pair of blue, wraparound sunglasses and a baseball cap inside, as well as a hacksaw blade. There was no sign of any forced entry to my apartment. I racked my brains as to who could have put them there and I came to the conclusion that the only person who’d been in my flat since I’d last used my overnight bag was Malcolm Stuart. He came round to my place last Saturday for a few drinks and he must’ve smuggled the stuff in and planted it in my case, probably when I went to the loo.’
‘When Tony told me what he’d found, he suggested we could either confront Stuart with the evidence, or bait a trap for him. I opted for Plan B.’
‘It looks as if he was trying to frame me,’ O’Sullivan said.
Hamilton nodded. ‘That certainly seems to have been his intention. He came to see me yesterday and told me he suspected you of having Irish Republican leanings. He laid it on pretty thick. He told me he’d been to your place on Saturday and he said that, after you’d had a few, you started playing Irish rebel songs.’
‘The lying bastard!’
‘Stuart told me he’d come to me over your head, Anderson, because he thought you were too close to O’Sullivan to be objective. He tried to convince me there was enough evidence to justify searching O’Sullivan’s flat and he asked me to issue a warrant.’
‘And did you?’ Charlie asked.
‘Of course not!’ Hamilton blustered. ‘I told him I’d have to review the situation with you.’
‘Planting the evidence to frame Tony was clearly part of Stuart’s plan,’ Charlie said, ‘but that wasn’t without its risks. Stuart was the one pointing the finger and if Tony could manage to prove his innocence, suspicion was liable to fall on him. However, when Terry McKay committed a copycat murder, Stuart saw the possibility of letting him take the rap for all four. For that to work, he had to make sure McKay wouldn’t be able to confess to one murder while denying all knowledge of the others. When he got the opportunity to take McKay out in the line of duty, with two police officers as witnesses, he must have thought all his Christmases had come at once. In retrospect, I can see now that the way he drove McKay’s head into the shop doorway was way over the top, but in the heat of the moment it looked like an accident.
‘The only fly in Stuart’s ointment,’ Charlie continued, ‘and it was one hell of a big fly – was that he’d already planted the sunglasses, baseball cap and hacksaw blade in Tony’s overnight case. He was probably planning to break into Tony’s flat to recover them when we presented him with the opportunity to retrieve them on a plate, at the sam
e time giving him enough rope to hang himself.’
‘I should have been consulted before firearms were issued.’
‘I didn’t want to interrupt you in the middle of your press conference,’ Charlie said. ‘But when I reflected on how clinically Stuart had taken out McKay, I thought we’d better go in prepared, so I asked the Assistant Chief Constable to authorise issuing a handgun.’
‘What does Stuart have to say for himself?’ Hamilton asked.
‘He had an initial outburst when we arrested him, but since then he’s clammed up completely. I’m planning to –’
Charlie’s flow was interrupted by the buzz of Hamilton’s intercom.
‘I have Superintendent Kenicer of Counter Terrorism Command on the line for you, sir.’
‘Put him through, Margaret.’ Hamilton transferred the call to the loudspeaker. ‘Hamilton here,’ he announced. ‘I have DCI Anderson and DS O’Sullivan with me.’
‘Good morning, gentlemen,’ Kenicer’s voice boomed. ‘I believe you’ve arrested Malcolm Stuart and charged him with murder. Well done! A nasty piece of work, if I may say so.’
‘You know him?’ Hamilton queried.
‘We’ve known Stuart was bad news from the day he applied to join the Met. We knew from the outset he was an Irish Republican sympathiser – it runs in his family – and while he was at LSE he fell in with a bunch of hardliners from the Fermanagh Freedom Fighters’.
‘How do you know all this?’ Charlie asked.
‘We have a mole within the FFF who keeps us informed.’
Charlie stared incredulously at the loudspeaker. ‘In which case,’ he demanded, ‘why didn’t you block Stuart’s application?’
‘Dissident Irish factions, along with many other terrorist organisations, are continually on the lookout for opportunities to infiltrate the Establishment, Inspector. If we were to reject the likes of Stuart, they’d only plant someone else. Much better the devil we know to keep an eye on. For example, within the Met itself, we’ve recently identified a mole with links to Hizb ut-Tahrir. Once such people have been pinpointed, we’re in a position to feed them whatever information, or disinformation, suits our purposes. Much more worrying is the situation with Hezbollah who are clearly being leaked information and we’ve no idea where it’s coming from.’
