Caitlin made a disgusted little noise in her throat at the reminder of how easily she’d been fooled. “Mr Keane should have gone to RADA; he’d be worth millions by now. But you’re right. That doesn’t seem to match the profile we’ve been given for Gareth Ramsay at all.”
The drive back to the station only took fifteen minutes, and I waved my eager DCs off as I headed straight for my office. “McKinnon first,” I told them as I swept through. “Give me ten minutes, and you can have my full attention.” James McKinnon, when he answered the phone, sounded glad that I’d had the sense to check-in so quickly.
“Well, Conall, this is a bit of a nuisance, isn’t it? I got a call from Those On High not five minutes ago and was just thinking I’d give you an hour to call me before bothering you.” Before blasting my ear off for not beating him to it, he meant. “Their ‘asset’ isn’t stomping all over you, is he? I know what they’re bloody well like.”
“This one seems more helpful and collaborative than most, Sir. But all the fuss will probably slow my own investigation down quite a bit if I can’t free up a couple of my DCs for my own use when I need to.”
An indecipherable ‘hmmph’ noise reached my ear, not promising.
“What can’t be cured… I sympathise, believe me, I do. I’m going to be strapped for free hands too until we find this Ferguson fellow for them. You know I’ve got a major operation on myself just now? We’re talking big fish there, Conall, seven and eight-figure players who could snap their man up for breakfast without blinking.”
I hadn’t known that, but I wasn’t particularly surprised to hear it. McKinnon’s teams regularly landed a lot of small to medium middlemen in the narcotics trade. Enough little titbits from those could easily accumulate over time into sufficient intel to put something bigger into the works and have a try at the real sharks. And it explained why I’d been given the Ramsay case too. No chance of any extra personnel being sent my way, at least for now.
“Message received, Sir,” I told him. “The cavalry is currently otherwise engaged.” Dammit! Funny how that always happened when you needed them most. “Their man mentioned asking for a team to keep an eye on the Ramsay place?”
“Aye, they’ve asked for that, and even working in pairs pulling twelve-hour shifts each, that completely ties four of my people up. Not to mention the need to keep some decent back up within striking distance.” No, he wasn’t at all thrilled about that. “They’ll set up at the Connery place to the north, pick a spot with a good view and adequate concealment.” Shay would approve wholeheartedly of McKinnon’s efficiency and thoroughness. I know he knew I did, which was already a few points in the Area Commander’s favour.
“My team is working through footage and sightings enquiries as fast as they can.” Which is precisely what McKinnon would be expecting us to be doing. “But I’d still like the forensics report on the samples Davie Baird’s team took in yesterday as soon as possible.”
A sigh down the line. “Again, my sympathies, Conall. I’ve told them all they can put in as much overtime as they like, but you know as well as I do that we’ll be lucky to see those tomorrow.” I’d been angling for a push, redundantly. He was telling me they were already doing the best they could. “Even a rush job on a batch of DNA samples can take two or three days to process; longer if you’re unlucky and they have to start over again.”
What a horrible thought. My crossed fingers tapped my desk superstitiously.
“Please don’t wish that on me, James!” he chuckled, and I belatedly realised why. “Oh, you are feeling a bit stressed today, aren’t you, lad? That’s oddly reassuring to know. I was beginning to think you were totally unflappable. Having spooks from the Box popping up on my turf always rattles me too, even now. Do you realise that’s only the second time I’ve heard you drop that entirely ridiculous Sir this and Sir that nonsense with me? Anyone would think you were still a DI, the way you go on.”
“With all due respect, Sir…”
“Aye, I know, it’s just the way your da raised you. Don’t mind me, Conall, I don’t expect you to make a habit of it, nice as that would be. Right, lots to do, so we’d both better get on. Keep me updated, ey?” He rang off.
I took a minute to fire a quick text off to Shay, asking him to have a good dig around in Gareth Ramsay’s family history, and went out to see how my DCs had been doing.
They’d made an encouraging start, whilst Caitlin and I had been out on our little airport jaunt. Mike Gordon had been caught on camera in three different shops within a twenty-mile radius of town over the last couple of weeks. No clear pattern to triangulate from, unfortunately, but at least we knew he’d been around. No sign of Ferguson or Crawford.
“Collins, get on to the letting agencies next, will you? Find out what properties have been rented out in the last month and send out photos to those with likely prospects. Include the shots of Peters and Boyd too. We might as well deal with them all at the same time.” Together or not, we wanted locations for all five. “Ferguson won’t have wanted any curious neighbours close by, so focus on isolated holiday lets. We might get lucky there.”
Darren Mills was the obvious, most experienced pick for my next job. “Mills, you switch to the list of Ferguson’s associates we’ve been given. Find out if any of them own any properties up here they might have lent out as a favour.” They both nodded and got to it. “Walker, Bryce, you two are heading out. I want you to visit the three locations Mike Gordon was spotted at, see if anyone there can add any details; what was he driving, which direction did he leave in, all the usual.” He didn’t seem to have ventured anywhere near town, where we might have caught him on a traffic cam, more’s the pity. “McKinnon’s swamped with his own workload, so we can’t expect any help from there for the foreseeable; we’ll just have to do the best we can.”
“Sir.” They both grabbed their coats.
“Constant updates to me when you find anything. Go back to working down the list if any of you are finished with those jobs before I get back. Sergeant Murray and I need to visit the Ramsay farm again, and then the Kerr estate. Is everyone good?” A comforting volley of nods and Sirs, and the four of us who were leaving made for the door. Eleven forty-five already, tick-tock. At least I remembered, at the last moment, to ask the duty sergeant at the front desk to get the lads to move Shay’s car on my way out.
He took the keys from me with an obliging, “No problem Inspector. Any little thing you need, Sir, you only need to ask.”
I really liked the constabulary boys who shared their building with us. They could have chosen to be put out by the arrangement if they’d wanted to, but there had never been the slightest hint of that. I got the feeling, sometimes, that they took an odd, proprietary pride in playing host to my ‘temporary’ little department.
At the Ramsay farm, Mary sent her husband off to call in Jack and Alex whilst she got the kettle on. Once the men had swapped their muddy boots for cleaner footwear, and we’d all been served the obligatory mugs of tea, we settled in the cosy living room, the four of them squeezing onto the couch and Caitlin and me in the facing armchairs. It was hard to tell, as they huddled over our photos, if any of them reacted more strongly than we might have expected. After all, they were looking at the faces of the men who might have been responsible for Gareth’s murder. Fearful yet angry stares and a slight trembling in the hands as they passed them along were perfectly normal reactions to that.
“We now believe,” I told Mary Allen, “that your uncle Archie buried the missing sovereigns in the east field, somewhere near the old Ogilvie boundary stone. We’ll be sending a team up after the weekend to locate the cache.” I caught all their eyes, one by one. “I don’t need to add, I hope, that it would not be advisable for you to make any attempt to do so before then.” No, absolutely not. “Do any of you think you may have seen any of these men before?”
No, none of them did, but something was bothering Mary.
“Is there something you wish to tell
me, Mrs Allen?” I asked.
“I don’t know if it matters, Inspector, but mum and dad got fed up with people stubbing their toes and bruising their shins on that old stone years ago. It was a real nuisance when they had to go down to see to the ewes at night, or even call the vet in. Said it was a bad accident waiting to happen.” She threw me an apologetic little shrug. “Dad had our Iain dig the thing up, and it’s been sitting in the corner of the barn ever since. I can show you roughly where it used to be though.”
“When was this?” I asked, trying to sound as calm and disinterested as possible.
She frowned, trying to remember. “I know I was already walking out with Adam by then.” A squeeze of her husband’s hand. “You helped Iain move it, didn’t you, love?”
“Aye,” Adam agreed, “Heavy old thing it was too, they’d planted it deep. He pulled it out with the chain and tractor once he’d cut the turf away and got it loosened up a bit. Then he fetched me to help him get it into the wheelbarrow, and I took it up to the barn while he filled the hole in and put the turf back. Iain must have been coming on eighteen back then.” I did the math. Sometime during the year after Archie’s last arrest then. “He was in one of his moods that Saturday too. He’d wanted to go into town to meet his pals after lunch, and that little job held him up a good long while.” Adam gave me a little head shake. “He went through a bit of a phase in his teens, did Iain. Gareth kept him on a tight rein, as far as he could, but boys will be boys. They were always rowing back then.”
“Oh, don’t exaggerate!” Mary chided him. “Dad just laid down the law a bit when he had to. It did the trick too. Our Iain soon grew out of all that adolescent rebel nonsense.”
I glanced over at Caitlin.
“When did your brother move to Canada, Mrs Allen?” she asked, sipping at her tea.
“Oh, that was a good ten years back now. He’d been working down in Edinburgh for a few years before that, but he jumped at the transfer offer when his firm wanted to move him. He works in agricultural insurance,” Mary explained. “Iain hated farming, the awful hours out in all weathers, you know, but he had a good head for figures. Understanding the needs of his customers so well certainly didn’t hurt either. He’s done very well for himself, and the job suits him nicely.”
“Canada’s a long way away, though. Has he been back to visit much?”
“He came for Christmas, after Gary was born, and again three years later.” Mary looked a little uncomfortable, and even flushed slightly as she eyed Caitlin, a very fetching effect. “Dad just kept banging on about how it was time he found himself a nice girl and settled down, and it was all a bit awkward, really. We’d all agreed not to tell him you see. Iain had been going steady with Charles for over a year by then. Charles is just lovely, and he’s been so good for Iain. We video chat with them all the time.”
“That’s nice.” Caitlin smiled at her. “That’s what we all want really, isn’t it? To see our brothers and sisters find a good match. But you didn’t think your dad would see it that way?” Adam coughed, involuntarily, and reached hastily for his mug.
“He’d probably have had a stroke on the spot,” Mary admitted sadly. “Don’t get me wrong, Sergeant, my father was a lovely man, but he was far from perfect. A lot of his generation have the same, awful attitude to gay people. He could be a bit racist too, truth be told. Not in a mean way, as he’d see it, but we could all tell there were always big ‘us’ and ‘them’ divides in his mind, on both subjects.”
“Gareth was more what I’d call xenophobic than racist, love, to be fair,” Adam offered. “He was the same about most of the lowlanders and the English... and all the Europeans actually.”
Our sainted paragon of a victim had been flawed after all then. Caitlin and I dutifully finished off the teas we’d been so considerately presented with, and went out to be shown where the stone used to stand before taking our leave of the Allens. Another urgent request went off to Shay as Caitlin drove us on to the Kerr estate. After hearing all that, I certainly wanted a better picture of brother Iain. Had he dug up more than just the old stone all those years ago?
Douglas Kerr spent a long time staring at the photo of Pete Ferguson after dismissing Jimmy Crawford and Mike Gordon with a shake of his head. “He reminds me of someone,” he finally admitted, “but I can’t quite place him, Inspector.”
“Did you know Gareth Ramsay’s brother, Mr Kerr?” I asked, taking the pictures back.
“Young Archie? Oh yes, he was quite the ambitious poacher as a boy. Old Williams, our gamekeeper back then, must have dragged him in to face my father at least half a dozen times over the years. He was a bonny lad, Archie Ramsay. All the village girls were always after him.” His quick, reminiscent smile faded as he recalled Archie’s future career, but then, after another moment, I saw recognition dawn. “It was him, that man, although he looked a lot younger then.”
“Pete Ferguson?” I reminded him of the name. “You met him?”
He nodded. “I encountered him once, although we weren’t introduced. I’d driven into town one night, to meet some friends for dinner, and I spotted young Archie, looking like he could barely stand, being supported along by a couple of unsavoury looking characters. He must have been about eighteen or so at the time. I stopped, naturally, to ask if he needed any help.” Douglas shook his head sadly, “I think Archie recognised me, but he was so drunk he looked like he could pass out at any moment. He just smiled idiotically and that fellow, Pete Ferguson, gave me the most disgusting up and down look and told me to mind my own business and ‘piss off’ to my own, la-di-dah party. To tell you the truth, Inspector, I didn’t like the look of things at all. I persisted until Archie managed to mumble that he was fine, they were his pals, they were all good there.”
Douglas shrugged. “I drove off then, because I didn’t know what else I could do, and his friends made it very clear that I was asking for a good thumping if I didn’t leave them all alone. I went round to talk to Gareth the next day, though.” His cornflower-blue eyes fixed me with a bewildered look. “It was the oddest thing, so unlike Gareth. He said they’d all washed their hands of Archie months ago and advised me to do the same; the boy was no good, rotten through and through. I wondered later, if he hadn’t seen more than I had, even that far back.”
We left a set of prints with Douglas, who promised to call all the staff in to see them, and to let us know immediately if anyone had any information to offer. Five minutes later we were climbing over the stile again, heading back to where the campers were all parked up. Shay must have been back for a while. It was going on for two by then. I could hear his voice, slightly raised and a little agitated as we approached.
“Honestly, Jen, I wish you wouldn’t go on so. I’m fine, everything’s fine, they’re a lovely bunch… Yes, I’ll be back in time for Mair’s birthday, of course, I will… No, they’re not all in some weird cult!... Don’t you dare put Liam back on! I swear to God, I’ll block the lot of you if you don’t stop being so bloody annoying.”
Ah, he’d called the gang in to pretend to pester him. They’d just love that! I could picture Jen biting her hand, trying not to laugh out loud. Liam would probably be in tears, clutching his stomach and trying to keep quiet while Marie and Mair had probably left the room to let rip ages ago. Hopeless, the lot of them.
Shay’s restless pacing carried him out of hearing range before he was done, and his fascinated audience of history students belatedly noticed our arrival. At my request, Jessica Kerr called Miguel to bring the others up from the plots, and an embarrassed and apologetic Shay rejoined us all soon after she’d done so.
“Sorry, about that. My friends seem to think I’m not fit to be let out on my own for some bizarre reason. They mean well, but they can be a bit much sometimes, you know?” Nobody seemed to find that in the least hard to understand. He belatedly glanced up through his fringe and noticed the two of us. “Oh, hello again, Inspector, Sergeant. Isn’t it a lovely day? Much too nice to be stuc
k indoors.” His arm waved happily at the sunshine and the clear, blue sky before curling in to shield his eyes as he lifted his head to give us both a bright little smile. “What brings you out here this time?”
I was pleased to see Caitlin handling herself so well, in the face of that little performance. Once the budding agriculturalists had joined us, we went through our routine of handing the photos around and telling the tale of the gold sovereigns, and our intentions to send a team out to the Ramsay farm on Monday. Again, everyone seemed to view the photos with some trepidation, but nobody gave away any obvious tells. If Ferguson had got to any of them, they were doing a decent job of hiding the fact. Our work there completed, for now, we retraced our steps and left them all to it.
“Unbelievable!” Caitlin muttered under her breath once we were safely back in the car. “He’s still bloody convincing, even when you know it’s all fake. What was he like the last time you worked together?”
“You wouldn’t want to know,” I assured her. “Even if I could tell you, which I can’t. The Ids take their ‘need to know’ policy very seriously Caitlin. I thought you’d understood that.”
I saw her frown thoughtfully out of the corner of my eye as I turned the ignition key. A few moments later, as we rolled down the track, she surprised me with a chuckle.
“Oh that’s way better than mine, that’s just perfect! The IDs! Trust you Conall. Intelligence Dicks, right?”
I just grinned and pretended to zip my mouth up. Shay was going to love that one.
Twenty-Two
Shay
I think keeping my face straight through that series of pretend, frantic calls was the hardest thing I’d done for months. It seemed wise, I’d thought, to expose Jessica Kerr and friends to the fact that I wasn’t some unclaimed stray and had, in fact, already got more than enough of a support network in place, thank you very much. I’d sent out a prearranged ‘start in twenty minutes’ request as soon as I’d parked up again, before the others came over to see if I’d had a nice time with my friend. Just Jessica, Abby and Stewart this time. Katie and Debbie were down at the house, working in the library, and the others were at the project. I’d had enough time to make us all some coffee before Mair had opened for the gang with a video call to my laptop, anxiety quickly turning to exasperation once she decided that I was fine and had just decided to go off without telling anyone. Again!
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