Duplicity

by Pete Brassett

  ‘Aye, right enough,’ said Munro, ‘that’s my excuse when it comes to paying the electricity bill.’

  ‘Were your days always this full-on?’ said West. ‘I mean, when I was down south everyone buggered of at six, what you’d call a mañana attitude.’

  ‘It all depends on how much you enjoy your work, lassie. How determined you are to close a case with the right result. So yes, in answer to your question, my days have always been quite eventful.’

  ‘And tomorrow?’

  ‘What of it?’

  ‘Are we gonna charge MacAllister?’

  ‘With what?’

  ‘What do you think?’

  ‘We’ve no evidence, Charlie,’ said Munro, ‘not unless forensics come back with something positive. All we have right now is circumstantial.’

  ‘Yeah, but we could hold her on suspicion,’ said West. ‘Let’s face it, the woman’s as guilty as sin.’

  ‘Aye, maybe.’

  ‘You’re not convinced, are you?’

  Munro drained his glass, sat back and placed his hands palm down on the table.

  ‘Remember what I said a while back, lassie? About your instinct being the best tool in your box?’

  ‘Yeah, of course,’ said West, ‘but what about the facts?’

  ‘I’ll give you some facts, Charlie. Fact: we know Lars Gundersen used to work as a driver for Remus and we know Dubrowski took over the role when he went missing. Fact: we know Buchanan was using Gundersen’s identity to slip in and out of the country unnoticed. Fact: we know Dubrowski killed Buchanan. Fact: we know Carducci and Buchanan were bringing in meth from Norway and fact: MacAllister probably killed Remo Carducci but we cannae prove it.’

  ‘Okay, okay, I get it,’ said West, sighing as she topped up their glasses. ‘You left out the fact that Angus Buchanan and Anita Carducci were planning to hop it with the proceeds of their activities.’

  ‘Indeed they were,’ said Munro, ‘And Remo Carducci knew it. That’s why he sent Buchanan off for a big sleep. Listen Charlie, I’m not having a go at you, all I’m saying is we didnae have the evidence to get a conviction on MacAllister but you must do what you feel is right. If you think she’s responsible for knifing Senor Carducci, then you must charge her. Now, will we have that cheesecake or are we just going to look at it?’

  Chapter 22

  Not normally one for shopping lists as the only person he’d ever had to cater for hitherto was himself, Dougal – grinning inanely – was seated before his computer excitedly scribbling down a list of possible picnic ingredients, none of which were sandwiches but most of which were either deep-fried or wrapped in pastry with the combined ability to raise one’s cholesterol levels or clog an artery within hours of consumption.

  ‘Morning, Dougal,’ said Munro as he shook the morning drizzle from his coat. ‘You’ve the kind of shameless smile on your face a dear friend of mine once had when he was bequeathed a small fortune. What’s your excuse?’

  ‘Fishing, Boss. I’m away to the loch on Sunday.’

  ‘And does the prospect of sitting on a bank normally induce such a state of euphoria?’

  ‘No. This time’s a wee bit different. This time I’ll not be going alone.’

  ‘Is that so? And who, if I may be so bold, is going to keep you company?’

  ‘Lizzie,’ said Dougal, his cheeks flushing. ‘She’s the receptionist from the salon. She texted me last night and asked if she could come along.’

  ‘Good for you, Dougal!’ said West. ‘You go for it but, if you don’t mind me saying so, isn’t she a bit… young for you? No offence. I just…’

  ‘None taken,’ said Dougal. ‘Beggars can’t be choosers. Besides, she’s not that much younger. A few years. I think.’

  ‘Well, all I can say is I hope you’ve a panic button on your telephone,’ said Munro. ‘You’d stand a better chance of survival in a tankful of piranhas. Have you had yourself some breakfast yet, laddie?’

  ‘No, not yet. I’ve been a wee bit… busy.’

  ‘Would you mind doing the honours? Kitchen was closed at the Hotel Charlie this morning, we’re awaiting supplies.’

  ‘Nae bother, you can look through this while I’m gone,’ said Dougal as he placed a brown paper sack on the desk. ‘A few of Carducci’s things, it came from the lab last night, they’re done with them now. Oh, and we’ve had a spot of good news, too.’

  ‘And what’s that?’ said Munro.

  ‘The hair and the lipstick, they’re a perfect match for MacAllister.’

  West turned to Munro, mouth agape and slammed the table.

  ‘Yes!’ she said, ‘told you, Jimbo. What did I say? I was right, wasn’t I?’

  ‘Aye. Maybe, lassie. Maybe.’

  * * *

  Munro tipped the contents of the sack onto the desk as Dougal left for the cafe and sifted through the individually bagged items with his index finger as West looked on.

  ‘Knife,’ he said, ‘wallet, keys, phone…’

  ‘Phone?’ said West, the smile disappearing from her face. ‘But we’ve got his phone. Give me that.’

  She fired up the old Nokia handset and rapped the table impatiently as she waited for the screen to come to life.

  ‘Damn it!’ she said as she scrolled through the inbox. ‘Battery’s almost gone. Not a single text sent or received.’

  ‘Call list,’ said Munro. ‘Check the call list.’

  ‘Tons. All the same number. All beginning with four-seven-five.’

  ‘Norway,’ said Munro. ‘Four-seven. That’s the code for Norway. I’m guessing the five’s for Loddefjord.’

  ‘Then it must be his flat,’ said West, ‘but why keep a separate phone to call his flat when we all know he owns the place anyway?’

  ‘We know why, Charlie. The man’s not as stupid as he made out. Traceability.’

  ‘Of course. Sorry, being thick. I wonder where they found it?’

  ‘Probably in his trouser pocket,’ said Munro. ‘We couldnae move the poor chap, could we? He was tacked to the chair like a post-it note on a dartboard.’

  West opened the wallet, raising her eyebrows as she fanned through the notes.

  ‘Blimey,’ she said, ‘must be a few thousand euros here, all in five hundreds.’

  ‘Is that so? Now why would somebody going to a wee village for a family celebration need so much cash?’

  ‘Ego, I imagine,’ said West. ‘Knowing how flash he was I wouldn’t be surprised if he was going to give it all away as a measure of his success.’

  ‘Aye, you’re probably right, lassie,’ said Munro. ‘You’re probably right.’

  * * *

  Dougal, looking surprisingly downbeat considering his joyful mood just a few minutes earlier, returned to the office and handed out the sandwiches.

  ‘Here we go,’ he said sheepishly as he scurried to his desk. ‘They’re all the same. Sausage on white bread.’

  ‘What’s up?’ said West. ‘Two minutes ago you were over the moon about your impending date and now you’ve got a face like a wet weekend.’

  ‘I’m afraid I made a wee error when I ordered, Miss. I got distracted, you know, thinking about things.’

  ‘Good grief, laddie,’ said Munro as he unwrapped his sandwich, ‘it’s just a sausage toastie for goodness sake. What could possibly go wrong?’

  ‘I asked for red sauce instead of brown.’

  Munro rubbed his forehead and sighed heavily.

  ‘Dougal,’ he said, morosely. ‘If I said to you “IC1,” what would you say?’

  Dougal, sensing a return trip to the café was on the cards, hesitated before answering.

  ‘Caucasian male,’ he said warily.

  ‘Good. And if I said to you “SP70,” what would you say?’

  ‘Air support unit. Helicopter.’

  ‘Good. And if I said “P45”?’

  ‘Oh, leave him be,’ said West, laughing as she finished her sandwich. ‘Ignore him Dougal, he’s winding you up.’
/>   ‘Thank God for that, I never knew ordering the wrong sauce was a sackable offence. Anyone fancy a brew?’

  ‘Not just yet,’ said West, rubbing the crumbs from her fingers. ‘Something we have to do first. Coming, Jimbo?’

  ‘Where to?’ said Munro.

  ‘Downstairs. I’m going to charge MacAllister.’

  ‘Aye, okay,’ said Munro, reluctantly. ‘If you’re sure.’

  Chapter 23

  ‘And I thought it was only children who weren’t supposed to play with knives,’ said DCI Elliot as he raised his mug. ‘I wish we had something a wee bit stronger to put in this, you’ve earned it, James.’

  ‘It’s not me you should be thanking, George,’ said Munro as he stared out across the car park with his back to the group, ‘it’s Charlie. Oh, and Dougal, of course. All I did was lend some friendly advice, on sandwich fillings mainly. And the correct way to serve a steak.’

  ‘Don’t listen to him, Sir,’ said West. ‘He’s too modest by far, if it wasn’t for James…’

  ‘Careful, Charlie, you’re in danger of talking yourself out of a job!’ said Elliot with a grin. ‘I’ll tell you this for nothing though, there’s one person who is not best pleased with your efforts, the pair of you.’

  ‘Really?’ said West. ‘Who’s that, then?’

  ‘The Fiscal. She’s never been so busy. I’d give her a wide berth if I were you.’

  ‘No need to worry on that score,’ said Munro as he wandered to the desk and half-heartedly foraged through the sack containing Carducci’s belongings. ‘I’m away back home soon.’

  ‘What do you mean “soon”?’ said West. ‘You can’t do that. We’re having dinner and drinks at mine tonight, even Dougal’s coming, aren’t you, Dougal?’

  ‘I am indeed but I’m not staying late. I have to prepare for my weekend.’

  ‘So, that’s that then. You can leave in the morning and no arguments.’

  ‘Aye, okay,’ said Munro, as he fingered Carducci’s wallet, telephone and keys, ‘if we must.’

  ‘Well, I’ll see you all tonight,’ said Elliot, as he turned for the door, ‘and cheer up, James, no need to look so glum.’

  ‘Maybe this’ll cheer you up, Boss,’ said Dougal, passing him a slip of paper.

  ‘Och, Dougal man, I’m done here. What is this?’

  ‘Telephone number for Miss McClure.’

  ‘But we have her number.’

  ‘It’s her home number, Boss. She dropped by while you were downstairs, says you need to call her. I think she’s under the impression that you and she are off to the cinema tonight.’

  ‘Over my dead body,’ said Munro, sneering as he tossed the paper in the bin. ‘Over my dead body.’

  ‘What’s up, Jimbo?’ said West, perturbed by his mood, ‘something’s riling you, I can tell. Can’t be McClure, surely?’

  ‘No, lassie, it’s not McClure. Something’s just not…’

  ‘Well, maybe you should call her then. As a friend. You never know, she may be the key to whole new future.’

  Munro stared at West, smiled wryly and winked.

  ‘Grab your coat, Charlie,’ he said as he tucked the sack under his arm, ‘we’ve a few loose ends to tie up.’

  Chapter 24

  Despite the light but persistent rain and the occasional gust of wind blowing in off the fields, the front door – as was the way with many of the residents of Crosshill – was hanging ajar should friends or neighbours feel the urge to call in for a cup of tea and a chat, or to be more precise, to whinge about the cuts to the local bus service, the inadequate street lighting or the extortionate prices charged by the much maligned but life-savingly essential convenience store. Munro gently tapped the door and called inside.

  ‘Hello?’ he said, as he eased the door open. ‘Anyone home? Mrs Buchanan?’

  Heather Buchanan, beaming broadly, scuttled from the kitchen with a tea towel in one hand and an oven mitt in the other.

  ‘Inspector!’ she said excitedly, ‘I thought I recognised the voice, and you too, Sergeant. My, this is a pleasant surprise, come in, come in and makes yourselves at home.’

  ‘Thanking you,’ said Munro, ‘I hope we’re not disturbing you, Heather, turning up like this, unannounced.’

  ‘No, no, it’s quite alright. Now, sit yourselves down. I’m just warming the pot and I’ve some scones fresh out of the oven. Shan’t be a moment.’

  West, looking more than a little confused, took a seat as Heather hastened to the kitchen and leaned into Munro.

  ‘What the hell are we doing here?’ she said, her voice no more than a whisper.

  ‘All in good time, Charlie. All in good time.’

  Heather returned bearing a tray laden with cups and saucers, a jug of milk, a teapot and a plate piled high with scones topped with clotted cream and strawberry jam.

  ‘Now,’ she said, ‘you’re not on parade so feel free to help yourself.’

  ‘Very kind,’ said Munro as West whipped one from the top of the pile and tucked in.

  ‘So, to what do I owe the pleasure, Inspector?’

  ‘Oh, it’s just courtesy call, Heather. We wanted to check that you were okay…’

  ‘Och, I’m fine, considering.’

  ‘…and ask a couple of questions. Just to clarify a couple of things and to satisfy my own curiosity more than anything else.’

  ‘Well ask away,’ said Heather, ‘I’ll do my best to help.’

  ‘Right you are,’ said Munro, ‘but first, I’m afraid I’ve some bad news for you. Your friend: Remo Carducci. I’m sorry to say he’s passed on.’

  Heather, cup poised halfway between the table and her mouth, stared at Munro.

  ‘I’m not sure I understand, Inspector,’ she said, ‘I thought he’d gone to Italy. His father’s birthday.’

  ‘He didnae make it. It was quite… sudden.’

  ‘I see. Oh dear. Dear, dear, dear. This is unexpected, quite the tragedy. Oh my, what about Anita? How will she…?’

  ‘She’s been informed, Heather, dinnae go worrying yourself about that now.’

  ‘I must see her when she gets back, the poor woman, and so soon after Angus, too.’

  ‘She’ll not be back for a wee while,’ said Munro, ‘she’s… extending her stay.’

  ‘Can’t say I blame her,’ said Heather, taking a deep breath. ‘Still, at least she’s with family, that’s always a comfort.’

  ‘Aye, right enough. Listen, if you’d rather we came back another time…’

  ‘No, no,’ said Heather. ‘You carry on, Inspector. It’s fine. Really.’

  Munro paused as West helped herself to another scone.

  ‘Okay. Mr Carducci,’ said Munro. ‘Did you know that he owns a flat in Norway? It’s in a place called Loddefjord?’

  ‘Oh yes. He bought that years ago, in fact, not long after Lars joined the company.’

  ‘Lars Gundersen?’

  ‘Aye.’

  ‘Good, I was coming to him,’ said Munro. ‘Would you happen to know why he bought the flat?’

  ‘I do. I’ve not said anything before because Remo and Angus, God rest his soul, made it quite clear that I was not to meddle in their business.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘Lars’s chosen line of work was not what you might call entirely… conventional.’

  ‘In what way?’ said West.

  ‘He dealt in… organic tobacco, Sergeant.’ said Heather, shaking her head. ‘Och, it sounds terrible I know, but they said it was harmless. It was cannabis, I think. Remo and Angus met him on one of their golfing trips. After a few hours in the pub, he asked them if they’d be interested in taking some of his merchandise home with them.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘Well, Remo agreed of course and before long the cannabis was replaced with other… things. Lars rented the flat in Loddefjord, you see, and once the money came rolling in, Remo approached the owner and bought it so’s they’d have somewhere secure to stay. Or to keep the drugs
I imagine.’

  ‘I’d never have guessed,’ said West. ‘Lovely scones by the way. But tell me, why did they get involved with this drugs thing in the first place? I mean, surely the restaurants…’

  ‘Och, come, come, dear,’ said Heather. ‘Do you really think a café or two could make enough money to pay for his fancy motor car or all their golfing holidays?’

  ‘No, I suppose not. But what about Angus? What was his role in all this?’

  ‘He was canny,’ said Heather. ‘Clever. He knew how to move money around. Keep it out of sight, so to speak.’

  ‘And that didn’t bother you?’ said West.

  ‘What the eyes don’t see, Sergeant, the heart doesn’t feel.’

  ‘So what happened to Lars, Heather?’ said Munro. ‘The last time we spoke you said he just vanished. That he stopped calling round.’

  Heather settled back in her armchair, crossed her arms and smiled.

  ‘We joked amongst ourselves, Inspector,’ she said. ‘Angus and I. We said Remo must have come from a long line of magicians because he was excellent at making folk disappear.’

  ‘You mean…’

  ‘That’s exactly what I mean. I’m quite sure Lars wasn’t the first. I can’t prove it of course but if you asked me I’d say Remo wanted a bigger piece of the business and with Lars out of the way, he got it.’

  ‘And when Lars disappeared and they were left without a driver, that’s when you…’

  ‘Brought Tommy over?’ said Heather. ‘Aye. Correct.’

  ‘So you knew what he was doing?’ said West. ‘Tommy, I mean. You knew he was acting as some kind of courier?’

  ‘All I knew, Sergeant, was that he’d been employed as a driver. Och, I had a fair idea of what he was up to, I’m not blind, but like I say, I can’t prove any of it.’

  Munro finished his tea, set his cup on the table and cleared his throat.

  ‘Heather. Please understand I’ve no intention of upsetting you further so dinnae take offence but there’s something I have to ask: you knew Angus was dead before we even found his body, didn’t you? You knew it was Tommy who’d killed him?’