by Bill Daly
‘It’s a three-line whip,’ Tony interjected. ‘No exceptions.’
Sue took a slow, deep breath. ‘What are you going to do with the Radiohead tickets?’ she asked.
‘If you like, you could go to the gig with one of your girlfriends,’ Tony suggested.
‘Thanks for the offer, but it wouldn’t be the same. Besides, the flights are booked in our names. Do you think you’ll be able to get your money back?’
‘I’ll be able to cancel the hotel without any problem,’ Tony said, ‘and I’ll probably make more than enough to cover the cost of the air fares by selling the Radiohead tickets on the Internet. But it’s not the money that matters,’ Tony added apologetically. ‘It’s your birthday that’s been messed up.’
‘That can’t be helped,’ Sue said. ‘But, hey, don’t worry about it. We’ll find a way to celebrate my birthday tomorrow,’ she stated emphatically, ‘three-line whip or no three-line whip.’
‘How about a three-line whip – with the bit between your teeth?’ Tony suggested.
‘Aye, right!’ Sue said, laughing. ‘Save your erotic fantasies for your own birthday. When is your birthday, by the way?’
‘Would you believe – tonight?’
‘No way!’
‘It was worth a shot.’
‘Do you know what time you’ll be able to get off tomorrow?’
‘It depends on what mood your old man’s in.’
‘Give me call when you know what you’re doing.’
Charlie kicked off his shoes in the hall before pulling on his slippers and going through to the lounge. He settled down in his favourite armchair in front of the gas fire.
‘Fancy a cup of tea?’ Kay asked as she came through from the kitchen.
‘No, thanks,’ Charlie said, picking up the newspaper from the coffee table and turning to the sports’ pages.
‘You do well to take the opportunity to relax while you can,’ Kay said, ‘because you’ll be getting plenty of exercise over the weekend.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘We’re going to have Jamie staying with us – and he’s bringing across his football boots.’
Charlie folded his newspaper. ‘I didn’t know Jamie was going to be with us this weekend.’
Kay looked at her watch. ‘Sue will be dropping him off any time now. Tony’s taking her to London for the weekend for her birthday. He organised it as a surprise. He’s got them tickets for a Radiohead gig.’
‘Oh, bugger!’ Charlie said, crumpling the newspaper in his fists.
‘What’s wrong?’ Kay asked.
‘Tony isn’t going anywhere this weekend, love. I just broke the news to him and the rest of the guys. Instructions from on high. All leave has been cancelled until further notice for everybody working on the Preston case.’
‘Oh, Charlie! Does that have to include Tony?’
Charlie heaved a heavy sigh. ‘I can hardly make an exception for my daughter’s birthday.’
The manager was on the phone, taking a booking, when Tom Freer arrived at the Ubiquitous Chip just before seven o’clock. She held up her hand to acknowledge his presence. He waited until she’d finished her call.
‘Bruce,’ she called across to a member of staff who was setting a table at the far end of the restaurant. ‘Do you have a minute?’
‘This is a police officer,’ she said when Bruce ambled across. ‘He’s interested in two men who had a reservation at nine o’clock last Saturday. They were at table C2. Do you remember them?’
‘Last Saturday? Two men? C2?’ Bruce rubbed at his chin. ‘Sure, I remember table C2 all right. But it wasn’t two men. It was a man and a woman.’
‘Are you sure?’ Freer queried.
‘Quite sure.’
‘Was the man tall and slim? Fiftyish? With a pencil moustache?’
‘Not at all.’ Bruce shook his head. ‘He was a fat slob. In his thirties, I would guess. Sorry!’ Bruce broke off, his cheeks starting to redden. ‘I hope he’s not a friend of yours?’
‘Not at all,’ Freer said. ‘Carry on.’
‘He was an objectionable wee sod,’ Bruce said. ‘And his companion was as hard as nails. I remember them very well. The bloke acted as if he owned the place. He gave me the impression that he was more interested in finding something to complain about, rather than enjoying the meal.’
‘Do you remember if he paid his bill with a credit card?’ Freer asked.
‘He did. I remember that very well because the tip he added on was stingy. You don’t forget wankers like that in a hurry,’ Bruce added with feeling.
As soon as he got back to his car, Tom Freer phoned Charlie’s number.
‘I’m sorry to disturb you at home, sir,’ Freer said when Charlie took the call, ‘but there’s something I thought you’d want to know straight away.’
‘What?’ Charlie demanded.
‘Malcolm Steel wasn’t in the Ubiquitous Chip on the night Preston was murdered.’
Charlie sat bolt upright in his chair. ‘Are you sure about that?’
‘A hundred percent. There was a reservation in the Chip in Steel’s name, but the staff told me that it was a couple in their thirties who turned up. The bloke was in possession of Steel’s credit card and his PIN – and he used the card to pay his bill.’
‘Good work, Tom,’ Charlie said.
‘How do you want to handle this?’ Freer asked.
‘We’ll need to pay Mr Steel a visit to find out what this is all about,’ Charlie said. ‘I don’t want to give him any warning that we’re on our way. I don’t want to give him time to fabricate another story. How about we meet outside his house at half-past seven tomorrow morning? That way, we should be able to catch him unawares.’
‘Okay, sir. I’ll see you there.’
‘Did I hear you say you were going to meet someone at half-past seven tomorrow morning?’ Kay asked as Charlie disconnected.
‘Yes, love. Tom Freer’s onto something important.’
‘Well don’t expect me to get up and make your breakfast.’
Gavin Carter had got up early on Friday morning and spent all day walking the streets, stopping off at various coffee shops and burger bars when he needed something to eat. Time had dragged by. He’d decided to stay close to the crowded city centre so he wouldn’t stand out, but everywhere he went he had an uneasy feeling that people were looking at him – talking about him. It was as if everybody knew he had something to hide. He’d panicked when he saw two police officers on foot patrol coming towards him in the pedestrian precinct in Buchanan Street. Turning round, he’d hurried away, then sprinted along St Vincent Street in the direction of George Square, expecting the police to catch up with him at any minute. A flock of pigeons had scattered in a flurry of beating wings when he’d stopped in the middle of the square, his hands on his knees, panting for breath. When he’d looked over his shoulder, the police were nowhere to be seen.
By the time Gavin got back to the hostel his nerves were shot to hell. He’d booked a bed for another night, then turned in early, not wanting to get involved in conversation with anyone.
He knew he couldn’t go on like this for much longer.
CHAPTER 23
Saturday 10 September
Tom Freer was waiting for Charlie when he arrived outside Malcolm Steel’s house just before seven-thirty. They walked up to the front door and Charlie pressed the bell. There was no response.
‘Maybe he went out early?’ Freer suggested.
‘With the bedroom curtains still closed – and two cars in the drive?’ Charlie said. ‘I very much doubt it.’
Charlie held his finger to the bell as he looked up at the bedroom window. He saw the curtains twitch.
Charlie opened the letter box and shouted through. ‘We’re not going anywhere, Mr Steel. You might as well come down now.’
A few minutes later a disgruntled Malcolm Steel came to the door in his slippers and dressing gown.
‘What do you want at this time
in the morning, Inspector?’ he complained. ‘The weekend is the only chance I get to have a lie-in.’
‘If you’d told us fewer lies during the week, Mr Steel,’ Charlie said, ‘you might’ve been able to have a lie-in today.’
‘What on earth are you talking about?’ Steel demanded.
‘I suggest that you invite us in,’ Charlie said. ‘And we’ll tell you all about it.’
Without replying, Steel turned round and walked along the corridor. Charlie and Tom Freer stepped inside, Freer closing the door behind him before following Charlie and Steel to the lounge.
‘We need to know the truth,’ Charlie stated when they were all seated. ‘You told Constable Freer that you were in the Ubiquitous Chip, with a male friend, on the night John Preston was murdered, but we have established that, while your credit card was in the Ubiquitous Chip, you were not. Would you care to tell us what’s going on?’
Steel rubbed hard at his eyes. It was a few moments before he spoke.
‘It was my nephew’s birthday last Saturday. As a present, I let him have my credit card and I told him my PIN so he could treat his fiancée to a slap-up meal. That’s not illegal, is it?’
‘Your bank probably wouldn’t be too happy about it, but we’re not here to discuss that,’ Charlie said. ‘What I want to know is – why did you not tell us that before? Why did you say you went to the Chip with a friend?’
‘I… I don’t know,’ Steel stammered.
‘You’ll have to do a lot better than that, Mr Steel,’ Charlie insisted. ‘As it stands right now, you have not provided us with a viable explanation as to where you were, and who you were with, at the time John Preston was murdered.’
‘I didn’t kill John,’ Steel said quietly.
‘Then where were you when he was killed?’ Charlie asked
‘I was with a male friend,’ Steel insisted.
‘You can’t just keep repeating that, Mr Steel,’ Charlie said, a note of exasperation creeping into his voice. ‘You need to tell us your friend’s name so we can confirm that what you’re saying is the truth.’
‘I won’t give you his name.’ Starting to sob, Steel buried his head in his hands. ‘I can’t do that!’
Charlie made eye contact with Freer and nodded towards the door. They both got to their feet.
‘I’ll give you some time to think this over, Mr Steel,’ Charlie said. ‘But not a lot. I want to see you in my office in Pitt Street at twelve o’clock today – and if you’re still not prepared to divulge where you were and who you were with at the time of the murder, you will leave me with no option other than arrest you on suspicion of involvement in John Preston’s death.’
Steel didn’t look up as they both walked out.
‘Do you think he’ll turn up, sir?’ Freer said as he closed the front door behind them. ‘Are you not worried that he might do a runner?’
‘He’ll turn up all right, Tom. You have to trust your instincts in this business, son. The likes of Andy Carter or Jim Colvin might well do a runner, but Steel’s not that type. And I’m sure there’s someone with him in the house right now,’ Charlie added as they were walking past the cars in the drive. Steel doesn’t strike me as a two-car person.’
‘Could one of those cars belong to his mysterious friend?’ Freer asked.
‘It could well do. Make a note of both the registration numbers and have them checked out as soon as you get back to the office.’
Gavin Carter had again slept badly, tossing and turning half the night, his brain churning with a nightmare of him standing in the dock, his legs trembling as he pleaded with the judge who had just condemned him to a life sentence in the Bar-L. The dormitory wasn’t over-heated, but when he woke with a start, Gavin’s underwear was soaked in sweat and clinging to his body. He turned onto his back and checked his watch for the umpteenth time. It was just after half-past seven. He got out of bed as quietly as he could and headed for the showers.
As the soothing, warm water cascaded down his body, Gavin’s befuddled brain wrestled with his options. Going on the run didn’t make any kind of sense. His money would run out soon and the cops would track him down before too long. Sticking to the story about nailing Mulgrew’s hand to the bog door in The Jaco didn’t make sense either. The police would keep probing away until they uncovered inconsistencies between his version of events and Andy’s. And even if that didn’t happen, it wouldn’t be long before the cops applied sufficient pressure on Mulgrew to make him spill the beans.
The only practical solution was to switch his story. To admit that he hadn’t been in The Jaco with Andy and tell the cops he’d gone to a gig in Edinburgh with Stuart. God only knows how Andy would react when he found out he’d done that. Kick the shit out him, probably – and who could blame him? Andy was going to get sent down for sod all – just for trying to give him an alibi. But what was the alternative? If he stuck to Andy’s version of events, the cops would be able to prove that he wasn’t in The Jaco at the time of the murder. From there, they would conclude that the only reason Andy was trying to give him an alibi was because Andy knew that he had killed Murdoch.
He was terrified at the thought of what Andy would do to him, but the prospect of a life sentence in the Bar-L chilled his blood.
Gavin turned on the cold tap and stuck his head under the shower, closing his eyes. He needed to talk to Stuart, as soon as possible, to let him know what he was planning to do. But to do that, he needed to get his phone back. He shook the water from his hair and rubbed at his eyes. As he stepped out of the shower and towelled himself down, he decided that the only thing he could do would be wait until Lesley had gone out, then go back to her flat and recover his phone.
After he’d sorted things out with Stuart, he realised he’d have to face Andy’s wrath before talking to the police. The prospect sent a shiver running down the length of his spine.
‘I’m led to believe I’m responsible for messing up your weekend,’ Charlie said when Tony O’Sullivan walked into his office at half-past eight.
‘Something like that, sir,’ Tony muttered.
‘Sorry about that.’
‘It couldn’t be helped,’ Tony said with a shrug. ‘Is there any chance I might be able to knock off at a reasonable time tonight?’ he asked.
‘I’ll see what I can do,’ Charlie said. ‘A very interesting development this morning, by the way.’
‘What was that?’
‘Tom Freer found out that Malcolm Steel had given us a bum steer when he told us he was in the Ubiquitous Chip at the time Preston was killed.’
‘Does that mean he’s back in the frame?’
‘In spades. Freer and I have just been across to his place where he flatly refused to tell us where he was, or who he was with, at the time of the murder.’
‘Are you going to pull him in?’
‘Not just yet. I’ve given him a bit of time to mull things over. I’ve told him to be here at twelve o’clock. If he hasn’t come to his senses by then, I’m going to place him under arrest.’
Tom Freer stuck his head round Charlie’s door. ‘Are you interruptible, sir?’
‘Sure,’ Charlie said.
‘I’ve got some interesting information regarding the car numbers,’ Freer said.
‘There were two cars in Steel’s driveway when we went across to his place this morning, Tony,’ Charlie said by way of explanation. ‘I asked Tom to find out who owns them.’
‘One of the cars is registered in Malcolm Steel’s name, sir,’ Freer said. ‘But get this. The other vehicle is registered in the name of Mrs Sylvia Parker, the wife of Donald Parker, the head teacher at Steel’s school.’
‘You don’t say!’ Tony let out a long, low whistle. ‘Indulging in a bit of hanky-panky with the headie’s missus, was he? That’s not going to do his promotion prospects much good if her old man ever finds out.’
‘But Steel’s gay,’ Charlie said, frowning.
‘Welcome to the twenty-first century,
sir,’ Tony said with a grin. ‘Bisexual is all the rage these days.’
Charlie shook his head as he checked his watch. ‘After we’ve been to see Mulgrew, Tony, we’ll have time to pay Mrs Parker a visit before Steel comes to see me here at noon. Tom, find out Donald Parker’s address and text it to me. Better still, text it to Tony. I might not be able to find the message on my phone.’
‘How do you want to handle things with Mulgrew?’ Tony asked as he and Charlie were driving across town.
‘He’s shit scared of someone,’ Charlie said. ‘And he’s been well coached. We’ll give him a grilling and see if we can get him to crack.’
*
It was just after nine o’clock when Gavin Carter got off the bus in Dumbarton Road at the nearest stop to Lesley Adams’ flat. It being Saturday, he knew Lesley would either be working, or going to visit her mother. He checked his watch. If she was going to see her mother, she would be setting off around now. To be on the safe side, he went into the café on the corner and ordered a bacon roll and a cappuccino.
When he came out of the café, Gavin took the tenement steps two at a time. He turned his key in the Yale lock in the front door as quietly as he could and eased it open. There was no sign of life. He headed straight for the bedroom and was mightily relieved to see his phone was still where he’d left it, lying on the bedside table. As he picked up his phone, his eye was caught by Inspector Anderson’s card which Lesley had left lying on the table. He hesitated for a moment, then lifted the card and stuffed it into the hip pocket of his jeans before paging through his contacts and clicking onto Stuart’s number.
‘It’s Gavin,’ he said when the call was answered.
‘What time is it?’ the bleary voice asked.
‘Half-past nine.’
‘Half-past nine doesn’t exist on a Saturday. I don’t take calls before eleven o’clock.’
‘Stop messing about, Stuart. This is important. Are you at home?’
‘No, I’m in Aberdeen.’
‘What? What the hell are you doing there?’
‘My mother fell and broke her arm last week. I came up here a couple of days ago to give her a hand.’
