See Them Run

by See Them Run (retail) (epub)

  ‘Yeah. But I wanted to speak to her without him hovering. Gauge her reaction.’

  ‘Maybe he’ll see your point of view. He is a detective, after all.’

  ‘Yeah and pigs might fly. Tell you what, Chris, I think we need to have a closer look at our victims’ significant others. Could you check if any of them have any previous? Cautions, even? Close relatives too. You were checking on Billy Dodds, weren’t you? Anything there?’

  ‘Sorry – got distracted. But I’ll get that done now.’

  ‘Quick as you can.’

  Chris got to his feet. ‘Just previous? Or do you want background as well?’

  Clare thought about this. ‘Hmm. Depends what you turn up. Maybe see where they grew up, went to school, that sort of thing. I’m pretty sure they’re all entirely innocent and that there’s some other connection between these men but we do need to check everything.’

  ‘So just Billy and the wives? Angela Robb and the lovely Jennifer?’

  ‘Let’s do Nat Dryden too. Does he have a girlfriend? Ex-wife?’

  ‘Not sure. I’ll phone Sara and get her to check with the sister. I’ll do her, too, while I’m at it.’

  Chris went off to the incident room to find a vacant desk. Clare took out her phone and dialled Tech Support.

  Diane answered. ‘Ah Clare. Not worked through all the old laptops yet but definitely some dodgy stuff on Mr Dryden’s machine.’

  ‘How dodgy?’

  ‘Photos. And not the kind you share on Facebook either.’

  ‘Criminal?’

  ‘Definitely.’

  Clare whispered ‘Yes’ under her breath. ‘Diane, can you get them to me?’

  ‘I’m doing it now, Clare. You’ll find them in a folder with your name on the network. Password set to “patchwork”, all lower case. Change it immediately. I’ve given you editing permissions.’

  ‘Thanks Diane. I really appreciate it.’

  ‘I have to say, Clare, it would be really nice if you could pick these people up.’

  ‘That bad?’

  ‘That bad.’

  Clare felt mildly sick at the prospect of what she would find in the photos. ‘I’ll do my very best, Diane.’ Then she remembered the website address. ‘Any joy on that website?’

  ‘Not yet, but I’m hopeful. It’s a site called Playroom. Mr Dryden’s username is his email address – the numpty – so that was easy enough; but we’re still trying to crack his password. The software’s running now. If that doesn’t work I’ve another couple of tools I can try. There might be something else too, Clare, but I’ll let you know when I’m sure.’

  Clare thanked Diane and looked round to see if Chris was still on the phone.

  ‘I’m on hold…’ he mouthed then he began speaking, ‘Yes, DS Chris West. Yes, it is a serious matter. It’s a murder enquiry…’

  Clare left him to it and went to log onto a nearby PC. She navigated her way to where Diane had said she would upload the photos. Nothing there. She refreshed the drive a few times until finally the folder with her name appeared. She glanced over to Chris. He was still talking. She nodded her head to indicate he should come over and she opened the folder. As she was changing the password, Chris walked over, a printout in his hand.

  ‘Angela Robb,’ he was saying, ‘cautioned for a breach of the peace. Looks like a girls’ night gone wrong. But I don’t think…’

  Clare could hear his voice in the background, as she entered the new password and set the photos to play as a slide show. And then she heard no more as the images moved across the screen. A wave of revulsion swept over her and she instinctively clasped her arms across her chest.

  They were all young. Not just young, but children. Perhaps some of the girls looked older but not by much. Four men in varying stages of undress were seen in an assortment of positions and poses, their faces carefully turned away from the camera. Clare leaned forward to look more closely at the men but it was impossible to tell who they were. She looked at the background detail. Hard to see clearly, but she didn’t think it looked like a hotel room. Or a normal room, come to that. She could see wood panelling in the background but mainly the photos were focused on the men and on what they were doing to the children. One girl who looked barely pubescent was caught between two men, one front, one back. A boy who looked no more than twelve or thirteen, was being pawed by three of the men. He wore an expression so haunting that Clare could hardly bear to look.

  ‘Shit…’ Chris muttered, putting down the printout. For a few minutes he said nothing, watching as one image followed another. When he found his voice, it sounded hoarse. ‘Clare, we have to nail these bastards.’

  Clare hadn’t heard him. She was looking closely at the photos, zooming in on one of the men. ‘Does that one look like Andy Robb to you?’

  ‘Could be. Is there a way we could crop out everything else and see if his wife or girlfriend recognises him?’

  ‘Worth a go.’ She picked up her phone and scrolled to Diane’s number. ‘What about the others?’

  Chris peered at the photos as they moved across the screen. It was hard to tell. No distinguishing features were on show. It was clear the participants had taken care not to be identified. ‘Not sure.’

  Clare dialled Diane’s number and she answered straight away.

  ‘Hi Clare, you got the photos okay?’

  ‘Yes, thanks, although I kind of wish I hadn’t seen them.’

  ‘I know what you mean. Desperate stuff.’

  ‘Yep. No argument there. Listen, Diane, would you have time to crop the kids out of the photos? If you can, we might be able to have the men identified. I think three of them could be our hit-and-run victims.’

  ‘Sure. That’s a quick job. Give me the new password and, let’s say, half an hour or so and I’ll add the best ones to the folder.’

  As Clare hung up the phone it rang again. It was Raymond from SOCO. She switched on the speaker so Chris could hear the call. ‘Hi Raymond. Got anything for us?’

  ‘The paint from the lamp post,’ he said. ‘Definitely Land Rover Defender. Ten or eleven years old.’

  ‘That’s great. Thanks Raymond. I appreciate the quick turnaround.’

  ‘I’ll check through the lists,’ Chris said.

  ‘And there’s something else too,’ Raymond went on.

  The station door opened and DCI Gibson strode in. From his expression, Clare knew Jennifer Gilmartin had been crying on his shoulder.

  ‘A word, Inspector.’

  Clare covered the phone with her other hand. ‘I’m just speaking to…’

  ‘I don’t care who you’re speaking to. Call them back!’

  Clare made her apologies to Raymond and followed the DCI into her office. She had barely closed the door when he started.

  ‘What part of go gently don’t you understand? I’ve just left a devastated Jennifer Gilmartin. It’s not enough that she’s lost her husband in a deliberate hit-and-run. Then you go crashing in with your great size tens telling her that her husband’s a criminal! What were you thinking?’

  Clare swallowed. ‘I’m thinking he is a criminal.’

  ‘And I suppose you have evidence to that effect?’

  ‘Possibly.’

  ‘Possibly?’

  ‘We’ve recovered evidence of what looks like a paedophile ring.’

  ‘And you think Bruce Gilmartin’s involved?’ He was almost spluttering with rage. ‘What evidence?’

  ‘Photographs. Quite clear, sir. They’re on my computer now.’

  ‘Then you’d better show me, Inspector.’

  They emerged from the office and Clare led the DCI to the computer she had been using. She clicked to restart the slide show. There was a pause while the DCI took in what he was seeing.

  ‘Where did these come from?’

  ‘Nat Dryden, last night’s victim. They were on his laptop. Diane at Tech Support said he’d hidden the folder but obviously not very well.’

  DCI Gibson wa
tched the images wordlessly for a few minutes. ‘You can’t seriously think Bruce Gilmartin is involved in this? I don’t think you can identify anyone from these photos. They’re not clear enough.’

  Clare clicked until she came to the photo that looked like Andy Robb. ‘Chris and I think this could be the first victim. The shape of the head and the build are the same.’

  ‘You could say that about a lot of big lads.’

  ‘Yes, that’s true. I’ve asked Diane to see what she can do with the photos. If she can make them presentable, head and shoulders, say, I’ll show them to relatives.’

  DCI Gibson looked at Clare. ‘You are not – repeat, not – to show any of these to Jennifer. If anyone’s going to speak to her about – this – it’ll be me.’

  ‘With respect, sir, are you not too close?’

  ‘You’re suggesting I can’t be objective?’

  ‘Only that your fondness for Mrs Gilmartin might make it difficult to ask the right questions.’

  ‘I’ll be the judge of that, Inspector.’ He turned to walk back to Clare’s office then stopped. ‘In future, I want everything run past me first. And I’ll be bringing in a separate team to handle’ – he waved a finger at the computer – ‘this business. You can’t possibly run a murder investigation and crack a paedophile ring with the resources you have here.’

  Clare stood her ground. ‘I believe it’s the same enquiry, sir. I think our victims are possibly the men in these photos and that they are being picked off by our Land Rover driver, one by one.’

  The DCI glared at her. He seemed about to argue. Then he shook his head. ‘I knew you weren’t up to this, Inspector. I’ll have another team up here tomorrow. Friday at the latest.’

  He marched into Clare’s office and slammed the door.

  A few of the cops who had witnessed the exchange stood watching Clare. She looked round at them, her cheeks burning.

  ‘Okay, guys. Show’s over. Back to work.’

  They drifted off and Clare resumed her seat at the computer.

  Chris hovered for a moment then, seeing Clare glance up, said, ‘So, we have until Friday.’

  ‘At the most. Better get to it then.’ Her eye fell on the printout Chris had been holding. ‘Sorry, Chris – you were saying?’

  He shook his head. ‘It’s hard to think when you’ve just seen…’

  ‘Yeah, I know. But we have work to do.’ She looked at his face. ‘Look, go outside for five minutes. Get some air. Clear your head. Then I want you back to checking those wives and relatives. It’s more important than ever. I’ll call Raymond back.’

  Raymond answered immediately and asked Clare to wait while he reopened the case file. ‘Ah yes,’ he said, after a minute or two. ‘The footprint on the first victim’s shirt – Andrew Robb.’

  ‘Have you managed to narrow it down?’ Clare asked.

  ‘Not to the type of shoe, no. But I’ve blown it up and examined it on the big screen.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘Well now, I can’t be certain. But it does look to me as if it’s a woman’s shoe.’

  Clare frowned. ‘Really?’

  ‘Pretty sure. It’s much narrower at the toes than a man’s shoe would be. Bit of luck, really. It’s like the driver pressed a foot down on him to see if he was dead.’

  Clare thought it hadn’t been so lucky for Andy Robb but she thanked Raymond and went to relay the conversation to Chris. ‘Funny, though,’ she said. ‘I didn’t associate this one with a woman.’

  ‘No reason it wouldn’t be,’ said Chris. ‘It’s the car that did the damage, not the driver.’

  ‘Yeah, I suppose so. But we have two sets of prints, remember.’

  ‘Doesn’t mean we have two drivers, though,’ Chris said.

  A bark from the counter reminded Clare that Benjy was still there.

  ‘I’d better take him back to Mrs Gilmartin,’ said Clare. ‘Get it over with.’

  ‘Good luck.’

  Clare looked at Benjy and patted her leg. He hopped from the counter and she slipped the lead over his neck. ‘Hopefully she’ll be so glad to see you she’ll have forgotten she’s angry with me.’

  Chapter 15

  As she turned the car into the Gilmartin’s drive, Clare couldn’t help thinking back to the scene that had met her on Monday morning. There was no evidence of it now. SOCO had finished their work and the gravel had been neatly raked, no doubt at the DCI’s behest. Benjy, sitting on the front seat, was wagging his tail furiously as they approached the house. Clare opened the car door and he ran ahead of her towards the house. Clare followed him and rang the doorbell. Jennifer Gilmartin opened the door, sandwich in hand, and Benjy rushed in, running round and round her legs. In spite of herself, Jennifer smiled down at the dog. Then she raised her face to meet Clare’s.

  ‘Thank you for bringing him round, Inspector. And for looking after him. I’m obliged to you.’

  ‘It was a pleasure. He’s a lovely dog. And, please, let me say I’m sorry if I upset you.’

  There was a hint of a smile on Jennifer’s face and she gave a slight nod. ‘Al Gibson’s had a go at you, no doubt.’

  Clare shrugged but made no reply.

  ‘I do realise you have your job to do. But my husband was a good man.’ She hesitated, as though considering something then spoke again. ‘Can I offer you a cup of tea? Or coffee? As a thank-you for taking care of Benjy?’

  Clare had hoped to drop Benjy off and be out of Jennifer Gilmartin’s company as quickly as possible. But she appreciated the gesture and thought she might even learn something.

  ‘Coffee would be lovely, thank you.’

  She followed Jennifer into the house and through to the sunny kitchen. She strolled across to the window. She hadn’t noticed the view the last time she had been there.

  ‘You have a marvellous view.’

  ‘We do, yes. The benefit of being that bit out of town. We look down towards St Andrews and across to Guardbridge. On a good day you can see the Perthshire hills in the distance. It’s lovely when the sun’s shining and dramatic when there’s a gale.’

  Jennifer motioned to Clare to sit. ‘Sandwich?’

  Clare waved this away. ‘Please don’t go to any trouble.’

  ‘No trouble.’

  They chatted companionably enough but there was no mistaking the tension between the two.

  ‘I wonder,’ Jennifer said, at length, ‘when I will be able to bury my husband, Inspector.’ She sighed. ‘I can’t believe I’m saying that.’

  Clare gave what she hoped was a sympathetic smile. ‘Hopefully in a few days. But DCI Gibson will keep you updated, I’m sure.’

  ‘Are you married, Inspector? I really can’t go on calling you Inspector. It sounds too formal when we’re sharing a pot of coffee.’

  ‘It’s Clare. Call me Clare. And, no. I’m not married.’

  ‘Never fancied it?’

  Clare considered. ‘I’m not sure it’s compatible with this job.’

  Jennifer looked at her severely. ‘Life’s too short, Clare. Look at me. This time last week I was looking forward to a girls’ weekend in Amsterdam, not a care in the world, and now look where I am. Sitting in my kitchen with a police inspector, wondering when I can bury my husband’s body.’

  Clare wasn’t sure how to respond so she sipped her coffee.

  ‘Take my word for it. If you find someone who makes you happy, put them before the job.’

  Clare thought of Tom, back in Glasgow. Tom, who would marry her at the drop of a hat. But then, thinking of Tom also brought thoughts of Francis Ritchie and his family.

  ‘I’d better get back to work,’ she said.

  Jennifer saw her to the door, Benjy at her heels. ‘Goodbye, Clare,’ she said. ‘I don’t expect we’ll meet again.’

  As she walked back to the car, Clare wondered about that last statement. Was Jennifer planning a new life somewhere? Already? Given what had happened, Clare had to admire her composure. She had seemed remarkab
ly calm. Shock, maybe.

  Or had she meant something else by it? Was she warning Clare off?

  She drove back to the station, mulling over Jennifer’s advice to find someone to make her happy. Would she ever meet someone and settle down? She’d had Tom and had made a mess of that. Maybe she wasn’t meant to be part of a couple.

  * * *

  Chris had been busy. ‘Okay, first of all, I’ve checked out the relatives, and the victims.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘Bits and pieces but I doubt any of it helps us.’

  ‘Tell me anyway,’ Clare said, hanging up her jacket.

  ‘Right, so, Andy Robb, nothing. Angela Robb – cautioned for a breach of the peace, five years ago. No action taken.’

  ‘That it?’

  ‘Yeah, she’s clean otherwise. Grew up on the Broughty Ferry Road in Dundee. You know, just the other side of the River Tay?’

  ‘I know where Dundee is, thank you!’

  ‘Just checking. Went to local schools, nothing else of note. Both parents dead now. One sister in Canada.’

  ‘Checked?’

  ‘Yeah, she’s still there.’

  ‘Okay,’ Clare said. ‘And Billy Dodds?

  ‘Ah well now – he’s been a naughty boy. One conviction for receiving stolen goods, admittedly seven years ago, and an assault ten years ago.’

  ‘Did he do time?’

  Chris shook his head. ‘Suspended sentence for the assault, probably because the other lad had previous. Fine for the other one.’

  Clare nodded. ‘Anything else of note?’

  ‘Nah. He’s clean, otherwise.’

  ‘Okay. Next?’

  ‘Nat Dryden has no pre-cons and he doesn’t have a girlfriend. According to his sister Cindy, he’s not had one recently, as far as she knows.’

  Clare thought back to the clutter and mess in Nat’s house. ‘Yes, I can believe that. How about Cindy?’

  ‘Nothing at all. She and Nat are both local to St Andrews and she’s never been in bother.’

  ‘Which leaves the Gilmartins. I’m guessing nothing there.’

  ‘Nope. Both squeaky clean. In fact, she’s about as clean as it gets. Her father was a high court judge.’

  ‘Really? Who was he?’