PENURY: A bizarre death tests Scotland’s finest (Detective Inspector Munro murder mysteries Book 12)

by Pete Brassett

  ‘Nope. She must’ve deleted them.’

  ‘What about incoming?’

  ‘One,’ said Dougal. ‘MacDuff at 7:49.’

  ‘Texts then?’

  Dougal shook his head and frowned.

  ‘They’re not here, Duncan. It looks like she’s wiped those, too.’

  ‘Aye. Or MacDuff did. What the hell was he after?’

  ‘Or what was he trying to hide?’

  ‘Good point, pal. Well, I suppose we’ll never know, now.’

  ‘Don’t be daft,’ said Dougal. ‘I can get them back.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘If she’s got back-up enabled, I can log in to iCloud and download them from there.’

  ‘And if she hasn’t?’

  ‘Not a bother,’ said Dougal. ‘She may have wiped them from the SIM but there’ll be something on the phone memory. Trust me, there’s always a way.’

  ‘How do you fit so much information in that wee head of yours?’

  ‘It’s not so wee,’ said Dougal. ‘It’s like the Tardis.’

  ‘Right, you call the chief and fill him in. With any luck he’ll still be with Byrne. I’m away to fetch Westy.’

  Chapter 13

  With the diligence of a teacher and the patience of a saint, James Munro had spent his latter years nurturing the hidden talents of his protégés with the same care and dedication he afforded his rhododendrons, however, despite his best efforts, trying to find even one redeeming feature in the blundering DI Byrne was proving to be an uphill struggle.

  Relieved to be back in the office and feeling the strain of the ninety-minute drive from Dumfries, he hung his coat on the door and eased himself into a chair as Murdo scoured the floor for any stray crumbs.

  ‘If it’s not too much trouble,’ he said, loosening his tie, ‘I could do with a brew just now.’

  ‘No bother,’ said Duncan. ‘You look shattered, chief. Was DI Byrne doing your nut in?’

  ‘Och, I admit the man’s a balloon,’ said Munro, ‘and I’m really not sure what his superiors make of his performance to date but if it was up to me I’d give him a chance if for no other reason than he’s probably got the Samaritans on speed dial.’

  ‘That bad?’

  ‘Worse. The poor chap’s floundering like a flatfish on the deck of a trawler.’

  West, feeling equally fatigued from a two-hour session with an unresponsive Emma Riley, checked her watch.

  ‘Did you tell him about the connection between Barlow and McIntyre and Riley?’ she said.

  ‘I most certainly did not. That would only muddy the waters.’

  ‘Thanks. The last thing we need right now is someone like him sticking his oar in.’

  ‘It’s not the oar that troubles me, Charlie,’ said Munro. ‘It’s his complete inability to pilot a boat let alone row one.’

  ‘I need a break. We should have some supper, Jimbo. I’ll give Riley another going over once we’ve eaten.’

  ‘I’ll be with you in a moment,’ said Munro. ‘There’s something I have to deal with first. Dougal, this is a memory stick courtesy of our friend Byrne. Apparently it contains Rebecca Barlow’s missing bank details. Be so kind as to take a wee peek when you have a moment. See if you can find anything untoward. Byrne seems to think there’s nothing amiss but frankly his judgement leaves a lot to be desired.’

  ‘No bother,’ said Dougal. ‘I’ll get onto it soon enough.’

  ‘So, where do we go from here?’ said West. ‘I know we’ve got a number for McIntyre but it’s not as if we can call him up and ask for his address.’

  ‘Triangulation,’ said Dougal, as he copied the bank files to his computer.

  ‘You what?’

  ‘Triangulation, miss. Every time a mobile’s used it sends out two signals to the phone masts, one to identify the SIM, the other to identify the phone. The signals are picked up by the three nearest masts. Using that trajectory we can pinpoint his location to within a square mile, or just under.’

  ‘Blinding,’ said West, ‘but I’m assuming we’ll need him to pick up so what are we going to say? PC Plod here, can you come in for a chat?’

  ‘The council,’ said Duncan as he handed Munro a mug of tea. ‘We can say his vehicle’s been reported as abandoned and if he asks, we could tell him we got his number from the DVLA.’

  ‘One day,’ said West, ‘I’m going to come up with ideas like that. So, shall we give it a go?’

  ‘Not tonight,’ said Dougal. ‘I’ll have to set things up so we can track it in real time plus we’ll have to organise a couple of cars to help locate him once we know roughly where he is.’

  ‘Okay, tomorrow morning, then,’ said West. ‘I can’t see there’s any real rush right now anyway. Did you get anywhere with the mugshot of the tramp? Anything we can hand out yet?’

  ‘Aye, miss,’ said Dougal, waving a sheet of A4 in the air. ‘Here’s a print out. It’s not brilliant but it’s the best I can do.’

  West cocked her head as she squinted at the photo.

  ‘Not bad,’ she said. ‘Not bad at all. We’ll need quite a few copies to distribute amongst the–’

  West, cut short by Duncan jumping from his seat, watched as he grabbed the sheet of paper from Dougal’s hand.

  ‘Did your mother not tell you it was rude to snatch?’

  ‘Sorry, pal,’ said Duncan, ‘but this is important. Remember that record I was thinking about? It’s just come to me.’

  ‘Bing Crosby?’ said Munro. ‘Or Perry Como, perhaps?’

  ‘The beggar under the ATM at the supermarket.’

  West gazed at Duncan and shrugged her shoulders.

  ‘Have you got short-term memory loss, miss? When we were tailing Riley, she came out of the supermarket and while she was waiting for the Lexus to turn up, she handed this fella a twenty pound note.’

  West stood, took the photo from his hand, and studied it closely.

  ‘You’re right!’ she said. ‘You’re only bleeding right! Well done, mate.’

  ‘Oh, don’t thank me yet,’ said Duncan as he returned to his seat. ‘It’s actually not a good thing.’

  ‘What the hell are you on about? Of course it’s a good thing! How can it not be good?’

  Duncan folded his arms, rested a hand on his chin, and stared at West.

  ‘If we’re to believe Drennan,’ he said, ‘and we’ve no reason not to, then Emma Riley had this fella beaten up because he owed her money for drugs he hadn’t paid for, right?’

  ‘Yeah, so, what’s wrong with that?’

  ‘Simple. If he owed her money, then why did she hand him a twenty pound note?’

  West thought for a moment, glanced at Munro, and reached for her coat.

  ‘Jimbo,’ she said, ‘do you mind if we skip supper and head straight for the pub?’

  * * *

  Were it not for the need to return to the office to question a stubborn suspect as well as cater for a house guest whose dietary requirements revolved around anything fried, bland, or bovine, then West – desperate to avoid another late night – would have crashed on the sofa with a chicken jalfrezi, half a dozen poppadums, and a large Balvenie.

  However, with the clock ticking and a ravenous Munro poised like a vulture at the dining table, she was forced to rummage through the cupboards for something that hadn’t exceeded the use-by date.

  ‘There’s a takeaway down the street,’ she said, ‘I could nip out and get a couple of kebabs.’

  ‘I’d rather chew on my own leg,’ said Munro. ‘Besides, by the time you’ve been there and back we could’ve cooked something edible ourselves.’

  ‘Yes, but the problem is, Jimbo, we’re missing one vital ingredient.’

  ‘And what, pray, would that be?’

  ‘Food. Christ, I feel like Old Mother Hubbard,’ said West as she unearthed a loaf. ‘Oh, here we go, we’re in luck. Right, how about beans on toast?’

  ‘Fail.’

  ‘Cheese on toast?’

 
‘Double fail.’

  ‘Just toast?’

  ‘There’s a half a pie left, Charlie, we can reheat that.’

  ‘Steak and haggis again?’ said West, as she popped two slices into the toaster. ‘You’re on your own, Jimbo. I think I’ll stick with beans.’

  ‘Are you really in that much of a hurry?’

  ‘No, but there’s a method in my madness. The sooner I get going, the sooner I’ll be back, which means the sooner I can dive into that bottle of Beaujolais.’

  ‘Och, a wee spot of temperance willnae harm you.’

  ‘You’re joking, it’ll be the death of me,’ said West, as she slipped the pie into the oven, ‘but if I’m not drinking, then neither are you. I’m not going to sit here and watch you quaff, not unless you fancy giving me a lift again.’

  ‘If I ran a taxi service,’ said Munro, ‘I’d have a meter on the dashboard. You can have your fill when you get back.’

  ‘Spoilsport.’

  ‘So, it’s Emma Riley again?’

  ‘Yup.’

  ‘She must be sick of the sight of you.’

  ‘I hope so, Jimbo. I really hope so. I’ve got a mountain of stuff to run through with her but I’ve got a funny feeling all I’m going to get is “no comment” until the bell rings.’

  ‘And then?’

  ‘And then,’ said West, ‘I’ll have to charge her or let her go.’

  ‘And it’s not the latter you’re after.’

  ‘No, it isn’t, but I might not have any choice. All we’ve got on her is art and part but we’ve no evidence to support the charge. It’s Drennan’s word against hers.’

  ‘Well, you cannae back a winner all the time,’ said Munro. ‘You’ll get a second bite of the cherry, I’m sure. Folk like Riley have a habit of leaving banana skins about the place.’

  West pulled up a chair, slid the pie across the table, and wired into her beans on toast.

  ‘I would have asked Duncan to do the honours,’ she said, glancing at her phone, ‘but he’s carrying more than his fair share of the workload as it is.’

  ‘Count your blessings you’ve got him and not DI Byrne.’

  ‘It’s Dougal,’ said West, answering the call. ‘Better see what’s up.’

  ‘Are you okay to talk, miss?’

  ‘Yes, mate, everything alright?’

  ‘Aye, I’ve just received an email from Kay,’ said Dougal, ‘she’s detailed everything she found at MacDuff’s house.’

  ‘Come on then, I could do with some cheering up.’

  ‘That’s not going to happen just now,’ said Dougal, ‘I’m afraid there’s nothing of any significance apart from some fingerprints she lifted from the inside of the door.’

  ‘Well, that’s good, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes and no,’ said Dougal. ‘The good news is they’re already on the system, the bad news, they’re not a match to anyone, but here’s the thing, the reason they’re on the system in the first place is because the same set were lifted from the office in Rebecca Barlow’s house.’

  West laid her cutlery on the table, sat back, and took a large sip of water.

  ‘So,’ she said, ‘it seems like McLeod was right after all. It’s obviously the same bloke who’s killed both of them.’

  ‘Aye,’ said Dougal, ‘and whoever it is, is clearly new to the game because he’s utter crap at covering his tracks.’

  ‘Anything else?’

  ‘Aye, I’ve a wee question for the boss.’

  ‘I have to warn you,’ said Munro, ‘if it’s anything to do with football, I’ll not be able to help.’

  ‘It’s DI Byrne,’ said Dougal, ‘have you any idea who he has working for him?’

  ‘I have not. Why?’

  ‘Because whoever it is needs to book an appointment with Specsavers. I’ve just been through Barlow’s bank records and there’s plenty of interest here.’

  ‘I’m not surprised,’ said Munro. ‘Let’s have it.’

  ‘Right,’ said Dougal, ‘Barlow’s made a number of irregular transfers over the past few years to one Daniel McIntyre. Not standing orders, not direct debits, but transfers direct to his account.’

  ‘And you say they’re irregular? How exactly?’

  ‘Both the amounts and the dates, boss. Sometimes there’s two a month, sometimes there’s none at all. And all the amounts vary but there’s nothing less than ten grand in any single transaction.’

  Munro left the table, walked to the window, and stared at his reflection with his hands clasped behind his back.

  ‘Why?’ he said, ponderously. ‘Do you think he was extorting money because he had some kind of a hold over her?’

  ‘I don’t think it’s as sinister as that,’ said Dougal. ‘You see, boss, two months before Barlow made the first payment to McIntyre, he’d transferred a substantial amount into her account. Two hundred thousand pounds, to be exact. Four days later, one hundred and forty-three thousand went out.’

  ‘Back to him?’

  ‘No, to a firm of solicitors in Carlisle. I’ve checked with Land Registry and the sum and the date seem to coincide with the purchase of her first property. Now, I may be wrong, but all this happened after she quit the estate agency so I’m guessing McIntyre lent her the money to buy that property and the subsequent sums to him were repayments of the loan.’

  ‘Well, I cannae fault your thinking,’ said Munro, ‘but as you know, we need to verify it. As you now have McIntyre’s bank details I suggest you request copies of all his transactions for the same period.’

  ‘Already on it, boss.’

  ‘Good,’ said Munro, ‘and tell me, Dougal, as far as McIntyre’s concerned, is it a savings account or a current account?’

  ‘Current account.’

  ‘Then no doubt he’ll have some sort of a debit card. Put a trace on it, then if he goes shopping or withdraws any cash, we’ll have another way of locating him instead of relying on his mobile phone.’

  ‘Brilliant,’ said West, ‘I was just about to suggest that myself.’

  ‘Aye, I’m sure you were, Charlie. I’m sure you were.’

  ‘Right,’ said Dougal, ‘I’ll let you get on. Are you heading back here, miss?’

  ‘I sure am. Before you go, is Duncan still there?’

  ‘I am,’ said Duncan, ‘but I’m out the door, why?’

  ‘I was just wondering, I don’t suppose…’

  ‘If this has anything to do with clocking up more overtime, miss, the answer’s no. I’m not that keen on becoming a millionaire.’

  ‘Oh, well, can’t blame me for trying.’

  Chapter 14

  Like the hundreds of health workers, school teachers, vets, and fellow officers who regarded their occupations as more of a vocation than just a job, West, though dedicated to bringing the perpetrators of even the most petty of crimes to justice, was also painfully aware of the fact that the takeaway closed at 10pm and that surviving on less than six hours’ sleep without a decent meal for two nights on the trot was, by anyone’s standards, going above and beyond the call of duty.

  Seated at the desk with her phone and a bulky, brown envelope laid out before her, she glanced at the clock on the wall as the door eased open and a bedraggled Riley, looking more rough than diamond, entered the room with bags under her eyes and a blanket wrapped around her shoulders.

  ‘Take a seat,’ said West, as she pressed the voice recorder. ‘The time is 7:09pm. I’m Detective Inspector West. For the benefit of the tape would you please state your name.’

  ‘Again?’ said Riley. ‘Are you joking me?’

  ‘Name!’

  ‘Emma Riley.’

  ‘Are you still waiving your right to legal representation?’

  ‘I am. Aye.’

  ‘Have you had something to eat?’

  ‘Aye.’

  ‘Alright for some,’ said West. ‘Can I get you anything to drink?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Blinding. Then let’s crack on. I take it yo
u’re still keen to get McIntyre off your back?’

  ‘Definitely. Aye.’

  ‘Then it’s time you started answering some questions,’ said West, ‘or you’ll be going straight back inside and he’ll be right behind you. So, down to business, let’s have a quick recap. A Mr John Drennan, one of your regular punters, has been charged with assault for attacking a homeless man. He claims he carried out the assault because you paid him to do so. Do you still deny the allegation?’

  ‘I do, aye.’

  ‘Mr Drennan also claims that the reason you orchestrated the attack is because the person in question owed you money for drugs he received but never paid for. Again, do you deny the allegation?’

  ‘Again. Aye.’

  ‘You were recently convicted for possession and intent to supply. Since your release from jail have you, at any time, been involved with the sale, supply, or possession of any banned substances?’

  ‘No.’

  West slipped her hand into the envelope and retrieved an A4 sheet of paper.

  ‘For the benefit of the tape,’ she said, ‘I am now showing Miss Riley a photograph of the gentleman assaulted by Mr Drennan. Do you recognise this man?’

  Riley gave a lingering blink and slowly shook her head.

  ‘No,’ she said, lethargically. ‘I’ve never seen him before. Never. Never. Never.’

  ‘Take another look,’ said West. ‘Are you absolutely sure?’

  ‘Aye! What’s your fixation with this fella? I’ve told you a hundred times, I’ve not seen him before!’

  ‘That’s funny,’ said West, ‘because I have. He was squatting beneath a cash machine outside the supermarket.’

  ‘Common practice,’ said Riley. ‘They all do. You’ll be telling me next he’s got a wee doggie, too.’

  ‘It was the same supermarket you were shopping in.’

  ‘Big deal. It’s a free country. He can sit where he likes.’

  ‘The same supermarket McIntyre picked you up from.’

  Riley shivered at the sound of a nail being driven into her own coffin.

  ‘You’re guessing,’ she said. ‘How could you possibly know it was Dan picking me up? It might have been a mini cab.’