by Tana Collins
‘Well of course the BNP has now morphed into Britain First, which is the fastest growing right wing organisation in the United Kingdom.’
‘What do you think of the possibility that Bryn Glas 1402 could have linked up with the Irish, rather than the Scots?’ asked Fletcher.
McGhee scowled at Fletcher. ‘We’ve already had this conversation. I told you it was extremely unlikely, even given what we now know. The IRA has embraced the peace process. It would no longer be in their interest. As for the Real IRA, like I said in my previous meeting, there’s been no intelligence to suggest an alliance between those two groups.’
‘Yes, but surely it’s still worth pursuing,’ said Fletcher, ‘given the fact that Holdaway served over in Northern Ireland. Not only that, he shot the sister of the leader of Bryn Glas. Then there’s the Semtex. We still don’t know where or who Ewan Williams got it from.’
‘We’re working on it,’ said McGhee. ‘To put your mind at rest, Andie, we’re not ruling out a possible link between Bryn Glas 1402 and the Real IRA for that very reason. But leave it to the experts, eh?’
Duly chastised, for once Fletcher fell silent.
‘What explosives have the Welsh previously used?’ asked Carruthers. McGhee’s shortening of Fletcher’s name had not escaped him. He realised he didn’t like it. Didn’t want the man to be overfamiliar with his team. Or him.
‘Mostly industrial explosives from the many quarries or coal mines that were still active at the time,’ said McGhee. ‘Others are believed to have made do with the enriched fertiliser type used by the Provisional IRA in their early days.’
‘Jim, I want you and Andrea to go over to the RAF base,’ said Bingham. He turned to the rest of the team. ‘The meeting between Alistair and senior RAF Personnel was most fruitful.’ Looking directly at Carruthers he then said, ‘it’s impressive the results you can get when you go through the right channels. Procurator Fiscal’s also been very helpful. Pity you weren’t there. I’ve got permission from Group Captain Philips for you to conduct your own search of Roberts’ room.’
Carruthers nodded, ignoring Bingham’s swipe.
‘The RAF understand the importance of our teams working together, with us taking the lead, thanks to Alistair,’ continued Bingham. ‘The military police were ordered to leave his room exactly as they found it. You may not turn up anything new, but who knows. Given the seriousness of the situation, it’s worth a look.’
‘Can we take a look at Evans’ room as well, sir?’ said Fletcher, finding her voice again. Carruthers nodded his agreement.
‘No point. I already asked. The room is bare. Personal effects already gone back to his family.’
What family? thought Carruthers.
Carruthers watched Fletcher frown. ‘Why would they have done that?’ she said. ‘They know we’re conducting what could be a murder investigation.’
‘I’m not happy about it either, Andrea. Group Captain Philips is making enquiries and getting back to me. Looks like the room may have been cleaned due to a misunderstanding. Philips said he gave strict instructions for it to be left untouched, whilst the investigation’s still on-going.’
***
‘What are we looking for, boss?’ asked Fletcher a couple of hours later, after they had been shown into Dave Roberts’ room at RAF Edenside. Carruthers watched her put on a pair of latex gloves. He’d already put on his own.
‘I’m not sure,’ said Carruthers, wrestling with the coat hangers in the tightly packed wardrobe. ‘Hoping I’ll know when I find it. Anything out of the ordinary. Something that doesn’t fit.’
He stepped back, took a look round Roberts’ room. It was small and untidy, devoid of anything personal. There were no photos up on the desk, no pictures on the walls. There was, however, a faint odour of old trainers and stale sweat. He knelt to look under the bed.
‘Do you think we’ll really find anything contentious that’s not already been found by the RAF Police?’ asked Fletcher wrinkling up her nose.
‘It may be something quite innocuous. Something overlooked by the RAF Police. Don’t expect to find anything really obvious. After all, if he is a member of a far right or terrorist organisation, I doubt even he would be stupid enough to leave details of his membership lying around.’
‘What’s the position of RAF Personnel being members of the BNP, Jim? I know membership’s banned in the police and prison services.’
‘My understanding is that whilst not explicitly banned, they are barred from political activity or demonstration.’
‘So I’m assuming political activity would also include active recruitment of others?’
‘I would say so, yes,’ said Carruthers.
‘I don’t get the link, though.’
‘What link?’ said Carruthers looking up from his place on the floor. He had seen nothing but a pair of smelly trainers and a used condom. He could think of better ways of spending his Sunday.
‘The link between the RAF, the BNP and Bryn Glas 1402.’
‘That’s why we’re here Andie, to find it.’ He sat back on his knees. ‘Now are you going to help or am I going to be doing it on my own? You start by going through the books and magazines. I’ll look through his desk drawers and wardrobe.’
‘Oh goody, Air Craft Monthly. Just what I’ve always wanted to read,’ said Fletcher with a grin. Carruthers had already caught sight of a pile of aircraft magazines stacked up in a bookcase. His eyes flitted over the titles of some of the books on the shelf. Most of them, like the magazines, were about aircraft. No surprise there.
He looked over at her and frowned. ‘Don’t just stare at them, Andie. Start thumbing through. We don’t want to be here all day.’
‘Sorry boss,’ said Fletcher, selecting a hard-backed book on the Tornado F1. They worked in silence, Fletcher having thumbed through half a dozen books, until she picked up a copy of Men’s Health.
‘You know Mark reads Men’s Health. I can never see what the fascination is. Every issue’s pretty much identical. There’s always an article on how to lose your belly and how to have better sex.’
Carruthers laughed. As she thumbed through, Carruthers noticed something falling from the pages to the floor. It was a photograph. Fletcher picked it up. He saw from the look on her face it was something important.
‘Oh shit,’ she said. ‘I think you should take a look at this.’ He took the photo she handed him with a frown. Studied it. His eyes widened in shock, then narrowed into a steely glint. His frown deepened and his mouth became grim set.
‘Christ,’ he said. ‘This could change everything.’
‘I know,’ Fletcher answered.
The photograph was of two people kissing each other passionately. The girl was standing in her blouse and panties, with her blouse unbuttoned. She wasn’t wearing a bra. Her arms were wrapped around the man’s neck. She was standing on tiptoe to reach him. The man’s hands were possessively cupping the girl’s bottom. From the intimate nature of the photo and the lack of self-consciousness of the two people, Carruthers hazarded a guess that they had put the camera on to self-timer. There was no mistaking that they were in this very room. And there was certainly no mistaking the two people in the photograph. Dave Roberts and Siobhan Mathews.
‘Mathews lied to us,’ said Fletcher.
Carruthers got up from the crouching position. ‘Yes, she did. At least about how well she knows Dave Roberts. Clearly they’ve slept together at some point. No mistaking that. But the question is, when was the photograph taken, and why did she feel it necessary to lie?’
‘She didn’t want to appear to be cheap?’ said Fletcher. ‘You know this gives Roberts a motive for Evans’ murder. Jealousy.’
‘Yes, but it also means Mathews may be more involved in her own boyfriend’s death than we first thought.’
‘In what way?’
‘I don’t know, Andie, but it now makes Siobhan Mathews a suspect. We need to invite her in for questioning. She’s lied to us. She’
s has had a sexual relationship with a suspect wanted in connection to a possible murder and a car bomb attack. It also begs the question that if she’s lied about how well she knows Dave Roberts, what else has she lied about? Get on your mobile. Ring the station. Get them to run a check on Mathews. Let’s get her brought in. She may not be the innocent student we all took her to be.’
‘Perhaps they were in it together, sir. Maybe they planned Evans’ murder together.’
‘Yes, but what was their motive? And does that mean Mathews is connected to the explosion?’ Carruthers was staring at the photograph. He was frowning. ‘Andie,’ he said, ‘take another look at this photo.’ He handed it to her. ‘What do you see in the background?’
‘Not much. Too many bodies in the way. A book shelf, books, poster above the bed.’
‘Exactly. Take a closer look at the poster. What does it say?’
‘Really hard to make it out.’ She pulled the photo closer, twisting it to give the best light. ‘The lettering is rather small for a poster. I can see a few letters and numbers. There’s an R and an N and the numbers 40. Looks like the first number or numbers are obscured.’
‘Could it be 1402? As in Bryn Glas 1402?’
‘Shit. Maybe.’
Carruthers slipped the photo carefully into an evidence bag he unearthed from his trouser pocket and tucked it into his jacket pocket. He then took Fletcher by the arm. ‘Come on. Let’s get out of here.’
‘Are we going straight back, sir?’
‘No. Change of plan. We’re going to Edgecliffe. I want to bring Mathews in myself.’
****
Twenty minutes later they were at 56 Edgecliffe. They pressed the doorbell but there was no answer. Carruthers looked up towards the window of the living room, but it was in darkness. He phoned Siobhan on the mobile number she had given him, but it just went to voicemail. He didn’t leave a message.
‘Let’s get back to the station,’ he said. ‘We’ll pick up some sandwiches on the way.’
‘I know a really good new deli opened up just off Market Street,’ said Fletcher. ‘They do Panini’s as well as baguettes. Why don’t we swing round there? We could park up and eat them in the car.’
***
‘I’d better warn you that the whole station probably knows about your pregnancy. McGhee told Bingham. Bingham wanted to know why I hadn’t said anything,’ said Carruthers taking his Panini out of its wrapping. They were sitting in the car still in Market Street. It was more private than back at the station. ‘I’m surprised you said anything to McGhee,’ he said.
Fletcher sighed. ‘First, I hope you told Bingham it’s still early days. And secondly, I didn’t tell him. To be fair, it’s more what I didn’t say.’ She daintily wiped a spot of avocado from the corner of her mouth. ‘My shoulder bag spilled open. He picked up a magazine on pregnancy that had fallen out. Put two and two together. I didn’t deny it. Can’t believe he told Bingham though. What a creep.’
‘You OK about the news coming out like that?’
Fletcher grimaced. ‘I’m going to have to be.’ She sighed again. ‘Keeping the news to myself for much longer would have been a strain anyway. I’m almost glad it’s out there now.’
Carruthers wondered how she’d cope if she decided on a termination now the whole station probably knew about her pregnancy. It was a question he wasn’t going to ask. There was silence as they both ate.
‘This is really good,’ she said, looking at the rest of her chorizo, avocado and salad Panini. ‘I would never have thought of putting chorizo with avocado but it works. How’s yours?’
‘Better washed down with a pint of Dark Island,’ Carruthers responded, referring to the real beer from Orkney he liked so much. He loved both the real beer and whisky from the islands. Thought about how much Talisker he had left. His mind went back to Fletcher. He wondered if changing the subject had been deliberate. ‘No, it’s pretty good,’ he said, wolfing the rest of his chicken and prosciutto baguette. ‘I wish you’d told me about the pregnancy sooner though.’
‘It’s still early days, Jim. I wanted to, but I didn’t know the best way of telling you, then we found ourselves in the middle of a murder investigation. It never seemed like the right time. And if I’m completely honest I wanted to make a decision first about whether I’m going to keep the baby. I’m not sure I feel ready to become a mother. I don’t know what I’m going to do so–’
‘Have you had a proper talk with Mark?’
Fletcher shook her head. ‘We keep missing each other.’
Missing each other, thought Carruthers. Or avoiding each other? Not my place to ask. ‘You’re going to have to make some pretty tough decisions.’
‘I know. But the fact is that if I don’t think about it I can almost pretend it’s not happening.’
‘That won’t work for long. And certainly not now it’s getting round the station.’
‘I know. And I will sit down and have a good talk with Mark. I just need a bit more thinking time. I don’t feel ready to make a decision yet.’
‘How did your visit to the RAF base with McGhee go?’ asked Carruthers, feeling a little awkward and deliberately switching subjects.
‘You mean did McGhee try anything on? I’m sure he would have done if he hadn’t found out I’m pregnant. I think he was a bit disappointed he wouldn’t get the chance.’
‘Just watch him. I wouldn’t put it past him to still try it on.’
Fletcher looked up, eyes wide.
‘Think about it,’ said Carruthers. ‘It’s the one time he’s guaranteed not to get a woman pregnant.’
‘Hadn’t thought of that. But don’t worry, I’ve got his card marked.’
‘Good, but actually that wasn’t what I meant. Did you discover anything?’
‘Unfortunately, the visit didn’t really turn up anything new. Either that, or the RAF are closing ranks. Anyway,’ said Fletcher scrunching up her paper bag, ‘I guess we’d better be making tracks.’
***
As they walked into the station they were aware of a very noticeable sense of heightened activity.
‘DCI Carruthers!’
Carruthers turned to the desk sergeant. ‘What’s going on?’ He needed a pee so he hoped the sergeant wouldn’t keep him long.
‘Body’s been found. Male. Pinetum Park Forest. Looks like he’s been shot.’ said Brown. ‘That’s all I know. Call’s just come through. You’re wanted by the Super. Good timing you getting back when you did. He’d just asked me to phone you.’
Carruthers changed direction and strode towards Superintendent Bingham’s Office. His bladder would have to wait.
THIRTEEN
SUNDAY AFTERNOON, 3RD JUNE
Carruthers put his ear to the door and heard voices from within Bingham’s office. Hesitated a moment then knocked twice and entered. McGhee was with Bingham. They were standing close together, talking in murmurs. Both fell silent and looked up when Carruthers entered.
‘Take it you’ve heard?’ said Bingham.
‘That a man’s been shot?’ said Carruthers. ‘Yes. Do we know who it is?’
‘Not yet. I want you to go straight over to Pinetum Park Forest. Take Fletcher with you. SOCOs have been sent for. We also need a statement taken from the woman who found the body. Anything on just now?’
‘I’m inviting Siobhan Mathews in for questioning. Found out she’s had a sexual relationship with Dave Roberts. We’ve also found possible evidence to connect Roberts to Bryn Glas 1402. A poster on his wall.’
‘Christ. OK. Keep me informed.’
‘Jim,’ said Superintendent McGhee catching Carruthers up as they left Bingham’s office. ‘Can I have a word?’
‘What is it?’ said Carruthers still walking.
‘I haven’t had a chance to say this. I’m sorry to hear about you and Mairi.’
‘No, you’re not,’ responded Carruthers, glancing at McGhee contemptuously.
‘I never slept with her, you know,’ said
McGhee.
Carruthers didn’t stop walking but said over his shoulder, ‘No, but you wanted to.’
‘Well, of course I did. She’s an attractive woman. I must admit I never did work out what she saw in you,’ answered McGhee.
Carruthers stopped and turned to face McGhee. He took in a deep breath. Held it. Started counting to ten in his head. His former wife was his one weakness, his Achilles heel. He couldn’t bear anyone talking about her.
‘I admit,’ said McGhee, ‘I tried it on. Couldn’t help myself. Call it a defective gene.’
Carruthers gritted his teeth. Bunched his fists until he could feel the nails dig into the flesh of his hands.
‘But we both know,’ McGhee said, lowering his voice, ‘I could have had her any time I wanted.’
Carruthers saw red. His right fist shot out catching McGhee squarely on the nose. Blood spurted. Pain exploded in his hand. McGhee cried, swore. Lashed out at Carruthers, catching him with a right hook to his left eye. Carruthers staggered back from the force of the punch, the corner of his eye already bleeding, caught by McGhee’s signet ring. McGhee launched himself at Carruthers and pinned him back against the wall, holding him by the throat.
‘For fuck’s sake,’ said McGhee, nursing his nose with one hand and holding Carruthers against the wall with the other. ‘Nothing happened. I already told you that.’
For all that he was the shorter man, McGhee was incredibly strong. Naturally stocky and full of muscle and coming from the tough east end of Glasgow, he had the advantage over Carruthers.
The skirmish had brought Bingham out of his office at the same time as Brown and Fletcher came running round the corner to find out what the commotion was.
‘Right, you two,’ roared Bingham. ‘What in God’s name’s going on? McGhee, take your hand off Carruthers’ throat this instant. That’s an order.’
McGhee increased his grip round Carruthers’ throat. Pinned back, Carruthers was still struggling for release. He also started to make some alarming choking noises.
‘Jesus,’ said McGhee, ‘just move on, you loser. You lost her. Deal with it.’ Without releasing his hold on Carruthers’ throat he said, ‘I could report you for this. From what I hear you’re not exactly flavour of the month right now, are you?’
