by Bill Daly
‘I’m about to get banged up in Barlinnie, just because I wanted to give you an alibi – and all the time you were through in Edinburgh, shagging the arse of some randy wee bitch!’
Andy picked up his crowbar and held the pointed end inches from Gavin’s eyes. ‘I swear to God,’ he growled, ‘if you weren’t my brother’s boy, you’d be blind by now.’ He slowly lowered the crowbar. ‘What the fuck is going on, Gavin?’
‘I just wanted to impress you, Andy,’ Gavin whimpered as he struggled to sit up straight. ‘When Stuart phoned me to let me know that Murdoch had been murdered, I thought it had to be you who had got him. That’s why I hurried straight over to your place – to congratulate you. But when I found out that it wasn’t you – and it wasn’t my Dad, I told you it was me. I’d read in the papers all about what had happened to him, so I said I’d done it. I just wanted you to be proud of me, Andy. That’s the God’s honest truth. I never wanted you to give me an alibi. All along, I wanted to tell the polis that I was in Edinburgh with Stuart, but you wouldn’t let me do that. The cops knew fine well I wasn’t in the Jaco with you when you attacked Mulgrew. They told me they were going to charge me with Murdoch’s murder,’ Gavin wailed. ‘I couldn’t do anything else. I had to tell them I was in Edinburgh.’
Andy got to his feet slowly. ‘You’re a complete and utter fucking waste of space, Gavin.’ Turning round, he slung his crowbar over his shoulder and strode out of the flat.
Her head spinning, Lesley got to her feet slowly.
‘What’s going on, Gavin?’ she asked, offering him a handful of tissues to stem the blood that was seeping from his eyebrow and his nose.
‘Andy didn’t think the cops would believe me if I told them I was in Edinburgh with Stuart, so he made me go along with the story that I was with him in The Jaco at the time of Murdoch’s murder.’
‘That’s not what I’m talking about. What I want to know is – what’s going on with the randy wee bitch you were shagging?’
Gavin blushed furiously. ‘It was nothing, Lesley. Honest.’
‘Shagging the arse of her doesn’t sound like nothing to me.’
‘It was just someone at work,’ Gavin mumbled.
‘Who?’ Lesley demanded.
‘Sheila…,’ Gavin stammered. ‘Sheila McVey.’
‘Sheila! For fuck’s sake, Gavin! I arranged with Sheila for you to get a job – and the way you thank me is by screwing her!’
‘I didn’t mean it to happen – it just did.’
‘Really? How often have you shagged her?’
‘Christ, I don’t know,’ Gavin said, stuffing a tissue up his nose.
‘Well, have a think about it. Was it once? Was it twice? Ten times? Twenty times?’
‘I don’t know, Lesley. Four times, I think. Maybe five.’
Lesley fixed Gavin with a glare. ‘Where are you planning on spending the night?’
‘It was nothing, Lesley,’ Gavin pleaded. ‘She doesn’t mean anything to me.’
‘And you don’t mean anything to me, Gavin. Get out of my fucking sight. And I mean – right now!’
CHAPTER 28
Wednesday 14 September
Having summoned O’Sullivan, Renton and Freer for a nine o’clock briefing session, Charlie went to the vending machines to pick up a coffee. When he got to the incident room, he found them all waiting for him.
Charlie took the chair in the middle of the room. ‘Okay, guys, let’s go through the names one more time,’ he said, pointing towards the list of suspects on the flipchart board.
‘Terry and Andy Carter both have rock solid alibis,’ Tony said, ‘and it now appears that Gavin Carter is in the clear.’
‘Mrs C. and her new man’s alibi checked out,’ Freer chipped in. ‘They were definitely at a wedding in Carlisle on the evening of the third of September.’
‘What about Malcolm Steel?’ Renton asked.
‘He spun us a yarn about being in the Ubiquitous Chip at the time of the murder,’ Freer said, ‘but it turns out that he was in the bar at the Citizen’s theatre with his head teacher.’
‘Lesley Adams was visiting her mother in a care home in Bearsden,’ Charlie said, ‘and Martin and Ronnie Gilligan were at a Boys’ Brigade gymnastic display in Scotstoun.’
‘So, if we’re ruling out the Avenging Angel,’ Tony said, stroking his chin reflectively, ‘that only leaves us with Judge Ramsay. Could it be him? In fact, might he be the Avenging Angel?’
‘Don’t flog it, Tony,’ Charlie growled.
‘Has anyone got any bright ideas?’ Charlie asked, looking round the room.
They all shook their heads.
Charlie glanced at the clock on the wall. ‘In which case, it’s time I broke the good news to Niggle,’ he said as he struggled to his feet.
Charlie gave Superintendent Hamilton a detailed report on the status of the investigation.
‘Where does that leave us?’ Hamilton asked when Charlie had concluded.
‘Everyone we had identified as a potential suspect has been eliminated from our enquiries.’
‘Which means the murderer was either someone we know nothing about, who happened to be bearing a grudge against Preston,’ Hamilton stated, ‘or else our friend the Avenging Angel, or some other vigilante who found out that Preston and Murdoch were one and the same person and decided to take matters into his own hands.’
Charlie shook his head. ‘I’m convinced this wasn’t the work of a vigilante.’
‘Why not?’
‘We have compelling evidence to support the fact that the murderer was someone Preston knew.’
‘What action are you proposing to take now?’ Hamilton demanded.
‘I intend to organise a re-enactment of the crime scene in Cottiers next Saturday at half-past ten in the evening, in the hope that it might provoke a response from a member of the public,’ Charlie said. ‘It’s possible that it might jog somebody’s memory.’
‘That’s a long shot,’ Hamilton said.
‘I accept that, but apart from launching another investigation into trying to establish the identity of the Avenging Angel, we don’t have any other viable lines of enquiry to pursue.’
‘Would that be a sensible use of resources?’ Hamilton queried. ‘You don’t need me to remind you that if a suspect hasn’t been identified within a week of a murder being committed, the chances of him or her being caught are dramatically reduced.’
‘I realise that, but we have to do everything we can to nail the person responsible.’
‘This year’s budget cuts were savage, Anderson,’ Hamilton stated. ‘We have to set priorities. You ran up a big overtime bill a couple of years back when trying to identify the Avenging Angel – with nothing to show for it. How would you rate your chances of success this time?’
Charlie shrugged. ‘Somewhere between remote and non-existent.’
‘We can’t afford to spend time and effort pursuing enquiries that aren’t going anywhere. Besides, the press aren’t stupid. If we tell them we’re planning to do a re-enactment of the crime scene, they’ll know we’ve run into a brick wall.’
‘What do you suggest we do?’
‘The media aren’t hung up about Preston’s killer being found. The public aren’t baying for blood. Nobody believes that an innocent man was murdered. The majority of people think Preston was a paedophile who managed to get off on a dodgy not proven verdict – and then got what was coming to him.’
‘Are you instructing me to drop the enquiry?’ Charlie queried.
‘Not as such. We can’t tell the media we’re abandoning the investigation after less than a fortnight. That wouldn’t go down well. However, what we can say to them is that, although we haven’t identified the murderer yet, we are pursuing several lines of enquiry – and leave it at that. They won’t push it – and the public’s interest in the case will drop off before too long. On the other hand, the recent influx of crystal meth is getting a lot of media attention. BBC Scotland a
re going to transmit a special programme about it tomorrow night. I had a status meeting with DI Cunningham yesterday and he doesn’t seem to be making much headway, so that’s where we need to focus our resources.’
‘What do you want me to say to the team?’
‘Tell them that, if any new evidence comes to light, they should follow it up. Otherwise, they shouldn’t spend any more time on the Preston case.’
*
Charlie summoned O’Sullivan, Renton and Freer to join him in the incident room.
‘The good news,’ he said when they were all assembled, ‘is that we no longer have to work twenty-four seven on the Preston murder. The bad news is that, unless new evidence comes to light, we will no longer be working on the case.’
‘Why not, sir?’ Freer queried.
‘Recent budget cutbacks mean that we can’t afford to allocate resources to pursuing cases where there is a low probability of achieving a result.’
‘Not even murder cases?’ Tony asked incredulously.
‘Apparently not,’ Charlie said.
‘What do we tell the people involved in the case?’ Tony asked.
‘Leave that with me,’ Charlie said. ‘I’ll let them know the score.’
CHAPTER 29
As arranged, Lesley Adams met up with her sister in the lounge bar of The Rock at seven o’clock.
‘How are things with Gavin?’ Myra asked as they stood at the end of the bar, waiting to get served.
‘Who?’
‘As bad as that?’
‘Yep!’
‘Any news about –’ Myra looked all around before whispering in Lesley’s ear. ‘About – you know what?’
‘It looks like the police are going to call it a day,’ Lesley said quietly. ‘Anderson called me this afternoon. He told me, in confidence, that due to budget cutbacks they’re not in a position to allocate resources to pursuing cases that aren’t going anywhere. Apparently Preston’s murder falls into that category. Officially the case will remain open, but the police won’t be taking it any further unless new evidence crops up.’
‘So be it,’ Myra said with a shrug.
‘I checked the entry in the Westerton registration book,’ Lesley said. ‘You did a very good job of imitating my handwriting.’
‘I should hope so – I’d been practising it all week. I meant to ask you,’ Myra added, ‘do you want the auburn wig back?’
‘I’ve got the real thing,’ Lesley said, tossing her hair. ‘You can keep the wig as a souvenir. By the way, that was a nice touch of yours,’ she added, ‘writing to the Daily Record.’
‘Thanks – I was rather pleased with it myself.’
‘My round, I think?’ Lesley said with a smile.
‘This calls for a celebration,’ Myra said. ‘Let’s make it large ones tonight.’
‘I’m up for that.’
Lesley waved across until she caught the barman’s eye.
‘A large glass of New Zealand Sauvignon blanc for my friend, please,’ she called out. ‘And a large Captain Morgan’s for me – splash of water – no ice.’
Raising their glasses, they chinked them together. ‘To Tommy!’ Lesley said.
‘And,’ Myra added, chinking their glasses again, ‘to his Avenging Angels!’
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Bill Daly lives and writes in his native Glasgow where his bestselling DCI Charlie Anderson novels are set. In 2016 he was awarded the Constable Trophy by the Scottish Association of Writers. Never Proven is the fourth in the series.
ALSO BY BILL DALY
In the DCI Charlie Anderson series:
Black Mail
Double Mortice
Cutting Edge
Other books:
The Pheasant Plucker
COPYRIGHT
First published in Paperback Original in 2018 in the United Kingdom by Old Street Publishing Ltd.
This ebook edition first published in 2018
by Old Street Publishing Ltd
8 Hurlingham Business Park, Sulivan Road, London SW6 3DU
All rights reserved
© Bill Daly
The right of Bill Daly to be identified as author of this work has been asserted in accordance with Section 77 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988
This ebook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any un-authorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights, and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly
ISBN 978–1–910400–78–4
