by Bill Daly
‘Do you know when she left the building?’ Charlie asked.
‘I’ve no idea. I didn’t see her go.’
‘Do you recall at what time you saw her?’
‘I was going for my break, so it must’ve been round about half-past ten.’
Gavin Carter finished his drink quickly and hurried to the nearest cashpoint machine to check his bank balance. As he thought, he had three hundred and eighty pounds. He withdrew three hundred, then ran to the nearest bus stop in Dumbarton road. When a bus for Clydebank pulled up, he got on board.
Gavin’s heart sank as he approached the block of flats. There were no lights on in the lounge in Stuart’s ground floor flat. Could he have gone to bed early?
More in hope than expectation, Gavin pressed the doorbell and held his finger against it. There was no answer. Giving the door a kick in frustration, he turned round and trudged his way back to the bus stop.
While waiting for a bus to arrive, he remembered the Euro Hostel in Clyde Street. He’d stayed there for a couple of nights, about a year back, when he’d had a bust up with his father and stormed out of his flat.
He took the bus as far as Argyle Street, then cut through St Enoch’s Square and headed down Dixon Street, turning right when he got to the river. When he got to the hostel he was relieved to find that there were beds available in one of the dormitories. That was what he needed. A cheap place to kip down, in a crowded environment, where no one would ask him any questions about what he was doing there.
More than anything else right now, he needed time to think.
CHAPTER 21
Friday 9 September
While waiting for his porridge to cool down, Charlie Anderson phoned Tony O’Sullivan.
‘There were some interesting developments yesterday, Tony,’ Charlie said when Tony took the call. ‘I’m going across right now to have another go at Jack Mulgrew, then I have to give a status report to Niggle at ten o’clock. Round the team up for a briefing session at eleven o’clock in the incident room.’
‘Will do, sir.’
Disconnecting, Charlie called Lesley Adams on her mobile.
‘Did Gavin come back to your flat last night, Ms Adams?’ he asked.
‘No, Inspector.’
‘Did he contact you?’
‘He didn’t,’ Lesley said. ‘I’ve no idea what’s going on.’
‘If you hear from him, please let me know straight away.’
When Charlie had cut the call, Lesley drummed her fingertips on the kitchen table. She wasn’t at all sure this was a good idea, but she decided to go through with it.
Going through to the lounge, she switched on her laptop. As soon as it had powered up she checked through her work files until she found Andy Carter’s telephone number. He answered on the third ring.
‘This is Lesley Adams, Mr Carter. I’m trying to get in touch with Gavin. Is he with you, by any chance?’
‘The last I heard he was kipping down at your place.’
‘He has been staying here, but Inspector Anderson had arranged to come to see him here at seven o’clock last night and Gavin didn’t show up.’
‘Well he isn’t here.’
Lesley hesitated. ‘Why did Gavin tell the police he was with you on Saturday night?’
‘Probably because it was truth.’
‘He told me he was in Edinburgh.’
Andy chortled. ‘He was hardly going to tell you he was helping his Uncle Andy claim a punter, now was he?’
‘Do you have any idea where he is now?’
‘I haven’t a fucking clue. But even if I did,’ Carter added with a sneer, ‘there’s no way I’d be letting on to Miss Goody Two Shoes.’
Lesley was left staring at her phone as Carter brusquely cut the connection.
Gavin Carter had spent a restless night in the dormitory in the Euro Hostel. The intermittent heavy snoring coming from three beds down hadn’t helped, but even without that he doubted if he’d have been able to get much sleep. His mind was in turmoil.
Charlie Anderson recoiled from the strong stench of cheap booze coming off Jack Mulgrew’s breath when he answered the ring on his door bell.
‘DCI Anderson,’ Charlie said, showing his warrant card as he stepped across the threshold. ‘We spoke on the phone yesterday.’
‘What do you want?’
‘I want to know what really happened to you in The Jacobite Arms last Saturday night.’
‘I told the polisman in London Road everything. It’s all there in my statement.’
‘I want to hear it from you,’ Charlie said, taking his notebook and pen from his jacket pocket.
Mulgrew licked hard at his lips as Charlie prepared to take notes.
‘I was in the The Jaco on Saturday, havin’ a pint, mindin’ my own business. I went downstairs for a crap and when I came out of the bog I got grabbed by two blokes who nailed my hand to the door.’
‘Who were these two blokes?’
‘Andy Carter – and a young guy called Gavin.’
‘Why did they do that to you?’
‘I owed Carter money.’
‘How much?’
‘Five hundred quid.’
‘You owed Carter money? Or you owed Jim Colvin money?’
Mulgrew’s eyes were dancing. ‘I don’t know anybody called Jim Colvin,’ he said quickly.
‘The landlord in The Jacobite Arms said that you told him you were attacked by two complete strangers.’
‘I wisny goany tell him that I knew who had claimed me.’
‘How do you know that the young guy’s name was Gavin?’
‘When Andy Carter grabbed me, he shouted: “Haud his hand against the door, Gavin”.’
‘So you didn’t tell the landlord that you knew who’d attacked you,’ Charlie said. ‘You didn’t tell anyone at the hospital, you didn’t report it to the police at the time – then two days later you walked into London Road police station and filed a complaint against Andy Carter and Gavin. Is that right?’
‘More or less,’ Mulgrew mumbled.
‘Well it doesn’t sound right to me,’ Charlie said with a quick shake of the head. ‘In fact, to me, it sounds like a load of old cobblers.’
‘I don’t give a bugger what it sounds like to you, pal. That’s what happened.’
‘At what time did the assault take place?’
‘Half-past ten.’
Charlie stared long and hard at Mulgrew as he slipped his notebook back into his pocket.
*
Charlie checked his watch as he climbed the stairs to the top floor in Pitt Street. At precisely ten o’clock, he knocked on Superintendent Nigel Hamilton’s door and walked in.
Taking the chair opposite Hamilton’s desk, Charlie referred to his notebook as he gave a summary of the status of the investigation.
‘It’s six days since the murder took place, Anderson.’ Hamilton’s piercing, high-pitched delivery grated in Charlie’s ears. ‘I have to brief the Chief this afternoon. He’s holding a media conference at five o’clock – and, from what you’re telling me, he’s not going to have a lot to say to them.’
‘We’re gathering information and analysing it. We’ve drawn up a list of potential suspects and possible motives. We’ve put in place an action plan. I’m holding a briefing session at eleven o’clock this morning to review the status. What else do you suggest I do?’
‘The press will want to know if an arrest is imminent.’
‘I can’t give a timeframe for that.’
‘The Chief is looking for results, Anderson,’ Hamilton snapped. ‘I’m looking for results, not some nebulous action plan. We need to be seen to be pulling out all the stops on this one. Inform everyone who is working on the case that all leave is cancelled until further notice.’
‘Running the guys into the ground isn’t going to do anything to improve the situation,’ Charlie protested.
‘Public perception is important, Anderson. I’ll inform the Chief that
he can let the media know that everyone on the team will be working twenty-four seven until we get a result.’
‘In which case,’ Charlie said, pulling himself stiffly to his feet. ‘I’d be better employed managing the situation, rather than spending my time sitting here.’
Turning on his heel, Charlie strode out of the office.
*
Tony O’Sullivan was the last one to arrive in the incident room for the eleven o’clock briefing. Charlie signalled to him to close the door behind him.
‘You go first, Tom,’ Charlie said, turning to Freer. ‘What have you got for us?’
‘I went across to Paisley and I managed to speak to Alice Carter and her new man, Mitch Weir. They were as sympathetic with regard to Preston’s death as the rest of the Carter clan – “good riddance to bad rubbish” would more or less sum up their attitude.’
‘Can they account for their movements last Saturday night?’ O’Sullivan asked.
‘Not only can they account for them, they claim to have a hundred and fifty witnesses who will confirm that they were in Carlisle at the wedding of one of Mitch Weir’s sons from a previous relationship. I haven’t had a chance to check that out yet, but I don’t imagine they would’ve come up with something as convoluted as that if it wasn’t genuine.’
‘How did you get on with Malcolm Steel?’ Charlie asked.
‘He wasn’t at all cooperative, sir,’ Freer said. ‘He told me he was in the Ubiquitous Chip with a male friend at the time of the murder, but he wasn’t prepared to divulge his friend’s name because he’s a married man and Steel doesn’t want the police to give him any hassle. I checked with the Chip and Steel did have a reservation for two people at nine o’clock on Saturday night – and he paid the bill with his credit card at ten forty-three, so it looks like he’s in the clear. However, I’ve arranged to go back to the Chip this evening to talk to the staff who were on duty on Saturday. It’s a long shot, but the Chip is less than a ten minute walk away from where the murder took place. I’ll find out if there’s any possibility that Steel could have nipped out of the restaurant for half an hour to commit the murder and then be back in the restaurant in time to pay his bill.’
‘Thanks, Tom,’ Charlie said. He turned to Renton. ‘Did you manage to find out anything from your mates in the Procurator Fiscal’s office as to why they decided to prosecute Murdoch?’
‘They told me they realised it would more or less come down to Tommy Carter’s word against Murdoch’s, but they concluded that the boy’s evidence was credible and that he deserved his day in court.’
‘Do you have anything else for us, Colin?’ Charlie asked.
‘I managed to track down three of the guys who were in Terry Carter’s poker school last Saturday,’ Renton said. ‘They confirmed that Terry was in the flat all evening – and by all accounts he was well and truly pissed long before ten o’clock. When you consider that it would have taken him at least thirty minutes to get from his place to Cottiers and back – even if he’d gone by taxi, plus the time it would have taken him to bump Preston off, I reckon that’s a non-starter. For my money, Terry’s in the clear.’
‘Cross him off the list, Colin. And Mrs C. and Mitch Weir as well, at least for now,’ Charlie added, handing Renton a marker pen.
‘Over to you, Tony,’ Charlie said as Renton was drawing a line through the names.
Having reported back on his encounter with Jim Colvin in the Black Seven snooker hall, Tony gave a summary of his conversation in The Jacobite Arms.
‘The landlord confirmed that Mulgrew got nailed round about half-past ten,’ Tony concluded, ‘which means that whoever assaulted him couldn’t have got to Cottiers in time to strangle Preston.’
‘But the fact that everyone involved in this affair is going out of their way to tell us that the assault in The Jacobite Arms took place at precisely ten-thirty,’ Charlie said, ‘leaves little room for doubt in my mind that the two events are connected. The question is – how?’
‘From Andy Carter’s description of the assault on Mulgrew, I’m certain he was involved,’ Tony said, ‘and, according to the landlord, it’s a racing certainty that Jim Colvin would’ve been there to gloat at the time of the attack. However, I don’t believe for one minute that Gavin was anywhere near The Jacobite Arms on Saturday night, so I reckon Carter’s claiming that Gavin was there in order to give his nephew an alibi.’
‘That’s a strong possibility,’ Charlie said. ‘I’d arranged to see Gavin at Lesley Adams’ place last night but when I got there he’d done a runner. I checked with Ms Adams this morning. He didn’t return to her flat last night. We know he has a mate called Stuart, so it’s possible that Gavin might have gone to his place. Colin, as soon as we wrap up here, do some digging and see if you can track Stuart down.’
‘What do we know about him?’ Renton asked.
‘Not a lot. Like Gavin, he designs computer games, so both of them might work for the same firm. Gavin is with a company called SHERPA, which is run by a lady called Sheila McVey,’ Charlie said. ‘See if you can find a phone number for her.’
‘Will do.’
‘Going back to the assault in the pub,’ Charlie said, ‘the one person who knows for certain who was present when the attack took place is Jack Mulgrew. You and I will pay him another visit first thing tomorrow, Tony. If we lean on him we might be able to find out whether –’
‘I’m not working tomorrow, sir,’ Tony interjected. ‘I’ve got the weekend off.’
‘Oh, that reminds me,’ Charlie said with a grunt. ‘I’ve got bad news for all of you. We’re all working seven day weeks from now on until this case is put to bed.’
‘But I’ve got tickets for Thistle’s match at Dundee tomorrow, sir,’ Renton protested.
‘I hope you’ll be able to find someone who can use them, Colin,’ Charlie said.
‘But, I’ve…. I’ve made plans for the weekend,’ Tony stammered.
‘Then I’m afraid you’ll just have to un-plan them, Tony. I’m sorry about this, guys,’ Charlie said, spreading his arms out wide. ‘Orders from on high. It’s a three-line whip – all leave cancelled until further notice.’
A stifled groan travelled round the room.
‘I’ll meet you here at half-past eight tomorrow morning, Tony,’ Charlie said. ‘Then we’ll go across to Mulgrew’s place and pay him a visit. Okay?’
Tony gave a resigned shrug.
CHAPTER 22
Charlie spent the next hour clearing his backlog of paper work. He was about to head off home when Colin Renton walked into his office.
‘I’ve got a phone number for Mrs McVey, sir,’ Renton said, handing across a slip of paper. ‘There was a contact number on SHERPA’s website. I spoke to one of their marketing guys and he gave me Mrs McVey’s mobile number.’
‘Thanks, Colin,’ Charlie said, sitting back down on his swivel chair. Lifting the desk phone from its cradle, he punched in the number.
A female voice answered.
‘Am I speaking to Mrs Sheila McVey?’ Charlie asked.
‘You are.’
‘I’m Inspector Anderson – Glasgow CID,’ Charlie stated.
‘What can I do for you?’
‘This is nothing for you to be concerned about, Mrs McVey. I’m just looking for some information.’
‘What about?’
‘I believe you run a company called SHERPA?’
‘‘Running’ SHERPA is a bit of an overstatement, Inspector. I’m more of a sleeping partner. I financed the initial set up and I handle the HR side of things – recruitment, commissions, stuff like that. I leave the day to day running of the business to the technocrats.’
‘It’s the recruitment side I’m interested in,’ Charlie said. ‘I believe you employ a young man called Gavin Carter?’
‘I do.’ Sheila hesitated. ‘He’s not in any kind of trouble, I hope?’
‘It’s actually one of Gavin’s friends I’m trying to trace. A guy called Stuart
. He does the same kind of work as Gavin and I wondered if you’d had any dealings with him?’
‘Stuart, you said? I’m afraid not. We’re a small company and I’m in charge of the hiring. I’ve never taken on anyone called Stuart.’
‘Okay, thanks for that. It was bit of a long shot,’ Charlie said.
‘Is there anything else I can help you with?’
‘What can you tell me about Gavin Carter?’
‘Gavin? He’s one of our stars, Inspector. I initially took him on as a favour for someone I knew from school, a lady called Lesley Adams. She’s a social worker in Glasgow. She gave me a call a while back and told me that she was trying to help Gavin find a job. She hoped I might be able to put some work his way. As it turned out, it was Lesley who did me a favour. I’ve given Gavin several commissions now and he invariably produces innovative work, on schedule. That’s why I was concerned when I thought he might be in trouble with the police. I would hate to lose him.’
‘Thank you for your time, Mrs McVey.’
Tony’s name was displayed on Sue’s mobile as she took his call. Transferring the phone to her left hand, she swept her long hair behind her ear.
‘I managed to dog off the last period at school,’ she said excitedly before he could get a word in. ‘I’m all packed. Have you finished at work?’ she asked.
‘It’s bad news, I’m afraid, Sue,’ Tony said disconsolately. ‘All leave’s been cancelled. I have to work this weekend.’
‘Oh, shit! Is there no way that you could –’
