by Bill Daly
‘You couldn’t possibly have known how it would turn out,’ Charlie stated. ‘You weren’t in any way responsible for what happened.’
‘I realise that. But it doesn’t make it any easier.’
‘Did Tommy tell you that Murdoch had assaulted him?’ Tony asked.
‘Not at first. Initially, he only told Gavin, who had left school by then – he’d got a job designing computer games.’
‘So did Gavin tell you that Murdoch had assaulted Tommy?’ Tony asked.
Lesley nodded. ‘When he came to see me, he was spitting blood, ranting and raving about what he was going to do to Murdoch. I’d never seen him so angry. When I eventually managed to calm him down, he told me what had happened. Do you know what that bastard did to Tommy, Inspector?’ Lesley asked.
‘We’ve seen the transcript of the trial,’ Charlie said.
‘How did you react when you heard what had happened?’ Tony asked.
‘When I got over the initial shock, I told Gavin that Tommy would have to tell his father what Murdoch had done to him, but Gavin said the very idea of his father and his uncle finding out what had happened freaked Tommy out completely – there was no way he was going to go down that route. Gavin told me he was going to ‘sort Murdoch out’ – his words, but I told him that under no circumstances was he to go anywhere near Murdoch. I told him I would speak to Tommy.
‘Gavin also let me know that this wasn’t the first time Murdoch had been involved in something like that. There was a boy in Tommy’s class, Ronnie Gilligan, who had a schoolboy crush on Gavin – hardly surprising, given that Gavin was good at sport and had the looks of a young George Clooney. Ronnie had tried to impress Gavin by telling him he was sleeping with Murdoch. Gavin thought that was probably just bravado on Ronnie’s part, but Ronnie insisted it was true – he said he had the e-mails to prove it. There must have been something going on because not long after that Ronnie was withdrawn from the school in unexplained circumstances. There were rumours doing the rounds that Ronnie had been groomed by Murdoch, but that the affair had been swept under the carpet.
‘When I saw Tommy, I did everything in my power to persuade him to tell his father what had happened, but he dug in his heels. There was no way he could do that. When I realised I wasn’t going to get anywhere, I changed tack and insisted that his head teacher would have to be informed about what had happened. If Gavin’s assertion was correct – and Tommy wasn’t Murdoch’s first victim – who was to say that there wouldn’t be others if Murdoch was allowed to get away with it this time?’
‘Did you at any time doubt that Tommy was telling the truth?’ Charlie asked.
‘Not for one minute.’
‘Did he agree to tell his head teacher?’ Tony asked.
‘He said he couldn’t do it face to face. He asked me to do it for him. It was during the school holidays, but I managed to get in touch with Mr Parker at home and I told him I needed to see him urgently. He invited me over to his house in Nitshill. That was a difficult meeting. When I told Parker about Tommy’s accusations, his initial reaction was to go on the defensive, which was understandable. He was reluctant to involve the police just on Tommy’s say-so because of the damage that might do to the school’s reputation. However, he knew that his duty of care towards Tommy overrode any such concerns and he realised he was obliged to report Tommy’s accusations to the police. I also made him aware that I’d heard about the rumours that were circulating with regard to Murdoch and Ronnie Gilligan.
‘Parker mulled it over for a while, then he asked me to come back the following day and bring Tommy with me. After he’d listened to what Tommy had to say, he agreed to come with us to Drumry Road police station, where Tommy filed an official complaint.’
‘That must have been difficult for Tommy,’ Charlie said.
‘Difficult?’ Lesley shook her head slowly from side to side as the tears welled up in her eyes. ‘If Tommy hadn’t taken my advice, he’d still be alive today.’ She cast her eyes down and stared at the floor, a lump forming in her throat.
‘What happened after that, Ms Adams?’ Tony prompted.
Lesley wiped away her tears with the back of her hand before looking up. ‘The police initiated an enquiry and they interviewed Murdoch. Of course, he categorically denied that anything untoward had taken place. He claimed that Tommy had made the story up out of spite because he had rejected his advances. The investigation was hampered by the fact that Tommy had waited a fortnight before reporting the assault. The police doctor examined him, but after that lapse of time there was no physical proof of any sexual activity having taken place – and there was no DNA evidence available. Nevertheless, after the police had conducted their investigations, the Procurator Fiscal decided to proceed to trial and the case went to the High Court.’
‘Where the verdict was not proven,’ Tony stated.
‘Not proven!’ Lesley’s voice was quivering with emotion as she fought to hold back her tears. ‘Why on earth do we still have that stupid verdict?’
‘It has stood us in good stead over the years,’ Tony said.
‘Do you really think so?’ Lesley fixed Tony with a stare. ‘It’s not the first time I’ve been on the wrong end of one of those verdicts, Sergeant. If it ever happens to you, you won’t be saying that.’ Her voice was on the point of breaking. ‘It’s the great Scottish cop out – Not proven! Not guilty, but don’t do it again!’ Charlie allowed Lesley time to compose herself before continuing.
‘With regard to Murdoch’s trial,’ Charlie said, ‘I’m told there was no conclusive evidence on which he could have been convicted.’
Lesley took a deep breath. ‘I have to accept that,’ she said, exhaling slowly. ‘I was in court throughout the proceedings. When it was Tommy’s turn to give evidence he became flustered and he got confused about dates and times. My heart went out to him. I knew he was telling the truth, but I also knew the jury couldn’t convict Murdoch on the evidence presented. When the verdict was announced, Tommy’s parents and his uncle, especially his uncle, went ballistic. For the one and only time in my life I sympathised with the Carter family when they threatened Murdoch with retribution.’
‘Was Gavin in court?’ Tony asked.
Lesley nodded. ‘He sat between his father and his uncle throughout the trial. I don’t think he uttered a single word during the two days of the hearing, not even when the verdict was announced, but I could tell that he was simmering.’
‘How did Tommy react to the verdict?’ Charlie asked.
‘I don’t know. I never saw him again. I thought it would be a good idea to leave it for a couple of days before I spoke to him.’ Lesley’s voice dropped to little more than a whisper. ‘But the following day he threw himself from a railway bridge in front of a train.’ Tears again started threading down both of Lesley’s cheeks. ‘Can you even begin to imagine what it must have been like for him, Inspector?’ she said, dabbing at her eyes with her tissue. ‘To have to admit to his father and his uncle that he was gay was traumatic enough. But for him to accuse his guidance teacher of assaulting him – and then be told by a court of law that the man who had raped him had been acquitted. Is it any wonder he decided he couldn’t go on?’ Lesley’s voice hardened. ‘I can’t pretend for one minute that I’m sorry that Murdoch – or Preston – or whatever the hell he called himself – is dead. People like that don’t deserve to live.’
‘Did that experience have anything to do with your decision to leave the Drumchapel social services?’ Charlie asked.
‘It did,’ Lesley said. ‘My first impulse was to get out of social work completely. It’s a draining job at the best of times. You try to remain objective and you do your best to help the families you work with, but it’s not possible to avoid getting personally involved, especially when you witness a blatant miscarriage of justice that led to a sensitive young boy taking his own life. But in the end,’ she said with a sigh, ‘I decided to carry on. It’s a job I like – and I’m good at
it. But I needed to make a clean break. I was carrying too much emotional baggage in Drumchapel, not only with the Carters, but with several other families I was involved with, so I applied for a transfer to Anniesland.’
‘How’s that working out?’ Tony asked.
‘It’s a new set of families.’ Lesley forced a rueful smile. ‘With the same old problems. But despite everything I’ve been through, it is a worthwhile job – you really can make a difference to people’s lives.’
‘You mentioned earlier that Gavin had got a job designing computer games,’ Charlie said. ‘Do you know what company he works for?’
‘As a matter of fact, I do. It’s called SHERPA. I was actually instrumental in him getting the job. The company was set up a few years ago by a lady called Sheila McVey. Sheila and I used to hang out together at school. Her maiden name was Sheila Paterson and her middle initial is R, hence the company name. Gavin was into designing computer games so I gave Sheila a call to see if there was any possibility that she could put some work his way. She agreed to give him an interview, following which she offered him a job. I don’t know much about that kind of stuff but, whatever Gavin was doing, he seemed to be doing it well. Sheila was apparently very impressed with the quality of his work, to the extent that he was often sent to represent the firm at computing conferences – which meant overnight stays in flash hotels with all expenses paid. I was really pleased for him that he seemed to be making a success of his life.’
‘Okay, Ms Adams,’ Charlie said, standing up stiffly and massaging the base of his spine. ‘I think that’s all we need for now – and thanks for fitting us in at such short notice. If you wouldn’t mind letting me have your home address and your phone number,’ Charlie added, ‘in case we need to get in touch?’
‘Of course.’
Charlie wrote down the information Lesley gave him in his notebook.
‘I should mention that –’ Lesley broke off.
‘Mention what?’ Charlie queried.
‘It’s nothing,’ Lesley muttered with a quick shake of the head as she got to her feet. ‘It doesn’t matter.’
‘What doesn’t matter?’ Charlie probed.
‘I was just –’ She took a deep breath. ‘This is probably completely out of order, Inspector, but I was about to say that I would bet a lot of money that it was Andy Carter who murdered John Murdoch.’
‘I can understand why you might think that,’ Charlie said, taking a card from the breast pocket of his jacket and handing it to her. ‘If you think of anything else that might be relevant,’ he added, ‘give me a call.’
CHAPTER 11
The rain was spitting down when Tony and Charlie came out of the building. They turned up their jacket collars as they hurried towards their car.
‘What did you make of her?’ Charlie said as he was clipping on his seatbelt.
‘Actually, rather fanciable,’ Tony said with a grin.
‘One track mind, as usual.’ Charlie shook his head as he fired the ignition.
‘I’m a complete sucker for redheads.’
‘Have you told Sue that?’
‘I thought it politic not to mention it.’
‘I could tell her for you, if you like?’
‘Changing the subject quickly,’ Tony said, feeling his freckles flare up. ‘What did you make of her?’
‘I had the distinct impression that our Ms Adams was holding back on something. Right at the end, there seemed to be something she wanted to get off her chest, but instead of going through with it she blurted out some nonsense about thinking that Andy Carter was the murderer. Considering her previous comments about him, that was hardly a world-shattering revelation.’
‘What now?’ Tony asked.
’It’s time we found out what the Carter brothers have got to say for themselves,’ Charlie said. Slipping the car into gear, he flicked on the windscreen wipers. ‘They have to be prime candidates for Preston’s murder.’
‘What about Gavin?’ Tony asked.
‘He’s in the frame as well.’
‘Should we organise simultaneous visits to both Terry and Andy Carter?’ Tony asked. ‘So that they won’t be able to tip each other off that we’re coming?’
‘There’s not much point in that,’ Charlie said as he indicated left at the Great Western Road traffic lights. ‘If the Carter brothers are involved in Preston’s murder, they’ll have their story worked out by now.’
‘Nothing much of interest, Colin,’ Eddie McLaughlin said. ‘Most of the stuff here is what you’d expect to find – music downloads, notes for lessons on computing science, various spreadsheets, bank statements et cetera. His Internet searches are also fairly typical. Various computing sites, sports news, BBC, Wikipedia, Google, as well as a few porn sites – predominately gay ones. However, there is one interesting thing,’ he added. ‘No e-mails – not even any e-mail software on the computer. That is unusual.’ McLaughlin got to his feet and stretched his back as he powered off the computer. ‘I’ll head back to the office now and check if there are any matches on the database for the fingerprints.’
Colin Renton was perched on the arm of the settee in the middle of the room, looking through a sheaf of papers he’d come across in one of the drawers in Preston’s desk. ‘Hold on a minute, Eddie,’ he said, holding up a single sheet of paper. ‘Have a butcher’s at this.’
‘What is it?’
‘A receipt for an iPad, purchased by John Murdoch from the Apple Store in Buchanan Street. It’s dated three years ago, which was before he changed his name to Preston. Have you seen any sign of an iPad lying around?’
‘No, but I suppose he might’ve bought it for somebody else – maybe as a present?’
‘An expensive present. Maybe that’s what he used for his e-mails – and possibly other activities he would prefer to remain secret?’ Renton suggested. ‘If that was the case, where do you think he might’ve hidden it?’ Renton stroked his chin reflectively. ‘Probably not anywhere too difficult to find,’ he surmised. ‘After all, when he went out to the pub on Saturday night, he thought he’d be coming back here afterwards, in which case he might just have put it somewhere out of sight.’
‘You check out the kitchen,’ McLaughlin suggested, ‘while I have a shuftie in the bedroom.’
Renton was working his way through the kitchen cupboards when he heard McLaughlin’s cry of: ‘Got it!’ emanating from the bedroom. ‘I found this under his pillow,’ McLaughlin said, holding up a tablet as he walked into the kitchen. Flopping down on a chair, he flicked the cover open and powered it up. ‘Password protected this time. That’s a lot more like it,’ he said, rubbing his hands together. ‘Maybe I’ll get somewhere with this. I’ll take it back to the office and have a go at cracking the password.’
Just after half-past eleven, Charlie Anderson and Tony O’Sullivan pulled up opposite a high-rise tower block in Drumchapel and got out of the car. The rain had eased off, but the wind had picked up. Charlie leaned with both his elbows on the roof of the car as he studied the building.
‘It’s hard to believe that, in the nineteen-sixties, someone thought this would be the solution to Glasgow’s housing problems. The architects who designed these monstrosities should’ve been made to live in them,’ he said, craning his neck to look up.
‘They’re planning to demolish this one before too long,’ Tony said.
‘Not before time. Every time I see one of these tower blocks I’m reminded of the words of Adam McNaughton’s song: ‘The plans were well intentioned, but to say the least bizarre. Twenty thousan’ drinkers, and no’ a single bar’.’
The rain started falling again, heavier this time, as they made their way towards the building. ‘What floor is Carter on?’ Charlie asked as he broke into a wheezing trot.
‘The seventeenth.’
‘I hope to God the lift’s working.’
‘I suffer from vertigo,’ Tony said as the cramped, graffiti-covered lift groaned its way towards the seventeenth
floor. ‘It would kill me if I had to live in a place like this.’
‘Living in places like this has killed a lot of people over the years,’ Charlie said grimly as the lift shuddered to a halt. ‘And they didn’t have to suffer from vertigo.’
When the lift doors creaked open, they stepped out onto the landing. There were four doors leading off. Tony checked the name plates on each of the doors in turn, nodding to Charlie when he saw the name Terry Carter scrawled in pencil above a bell push. Tony depressed the bell. As the echo of the Westminster chimes was dying away, a stocky figure, dressed in a faded, Paisley-pattern dressing gown, came to the door.
‘Terry Carter?’ Charlie asked, showing his warrant card. Carter narrowed his eyes. ‘We’d like a word with you,’ Charlie said.
‘What about?’ Carter asked, sucking hard on his teeth.
‘Can we come in?’ Charlie asked.
‘What if I say ‘no’?’
‘Then we’ll do it down the station.’
Muttering a curse, Carter re-tied the belt of his dressing gown and took a step back. ‘Close the door behind you,’ he said, turning round and leading the way along the narrow hallway to the kitchen. Unwashed dishes were stacked high in the sink and several cardboard containers, the remnants of the previous night’s Chinese take-away, were strewn across the kitchen table. Carter slumped down on an upright, wooden chair while Charlie and Tony remained standing.
‘What’s this all about?’ Carter asked.
‘Have you heard the news?’ Tony asked.
‘The news? I’m just out my pit, for fuck’s sake.’ Carter made no attempt to stifle a wide yawn. ‘I haven’t even had my breakfast yet.’
