by G R Jordan
‘Thank you,’ said Stewart. ‘When they disappeared after their mother’s death, did she leave them anything special that you saw? I mean, they went racing off to look for something, some former contraband, so did she give them anything to help in that regard.’
‘It must have been a map picture that was on the wall of her house. I know this because Ally had a photograph of it on his mobile and he studied it sometimes in the middle of the night asking, “Where are you?” Told him I’m right here but he was miles away.’
‘Where did she have it in her house?’
‘No idea, and that’s your lot. I’ve told you what I know and that’s all you’re getting.’
‘One last question?’ said Stewart holding a hand up. ‘Do you have any addresses for these kids?’
The woman laughed. ‘No and I don’t want any addresses. They can just sod off. I helped raise them and all they gave me was scorn. I was like a stepmother but I wasn’t good enough, not like their mother who abandoned them. So as far as I’m concerned, they can take a boat down the creek and I wouldn’t hand them a paddle. Let them drift downriver and keep going until they go over the falls. Goodbye, detectives; you know the way out.’
Tucking the magazine with the picture of MacPhail’s family away, Stewart nodded at Ross to leave. Back in the car, Ross drove them to the services off the main road that runs around Newcastle, skirting Gateshead before passing Newcastle itself and heading further north. He filled the car with petrol and then came back with two coffees which he handed to Stewart. Instead of driving off, he took the car to a car park beside the petrol station and parked up.
‘What’s the plan of action?’ he asked to a deep-in-thought Stewart.
‘We send the picture to the boss along with what we have learnt. And then we go to our friends here in Newcastle. McPhail’s wife was a con and she had part of the map. There’s been other maps too, so I reckon there’s a crew who all have these pieces. We need to go into her past and find the crew. These kids are on the lookout for them too and they seemed prepared to kill.’
‘You reckon they committed the murders?’
‘It’s a good hypothesis. Of course, it could be a free for all. But we’ll see our Geordie friends and give them the names of our characters, including Karen Gibbons, our old man who’s running around, and some photos of our Canna victim. I think the action’s going to happen up there, but the answers are down here in Newcastle.’
Ross drove to the main police station in Newcastle where the pair introduced themselves and requested the help of the local unit. Together, in the company of a young constable named Stavely, they trawled the records for the history of Alasdair Macleod’s wife, picking up a multitude of names and addresses for further investigation. By late afternoon Stewart had organised a tour of possible addresses for former known associates and acquaintances.
The first stop was at an out-of-town estate where the first house they came across had windows boarded up and a front door with the glass smashed in. A shopping trolley was in the front lawn and Stewart wondered if they would find anything inside. When Ross pushed back the open door, she could smell faeces and urine. The stench nearly overcame her and she held her breath as she continued inside the house. The living room sported a sofa with mould all over it and the walls were white with a fungus. Clearly the rain had been coming through the roof and causing an unstoppable tide of decay. On the floor was a rolled-up sleeping bag and when Ross shouted from the kitchen, Stewart ran through. On the floor was a sleeping man, wrapped up in a jacket and with an empty bottle of vodka beside him.
‘Dead end,’ said Ross. ‘He looks like nobody I saw in the photos of her associates. What do you think?’
‘You’re right. Let’s get a move on before I lose all sense of smell. Poor bugger living like this.’
As Stewart stepped back out of the house, she saw a girl standing by their car. She was just over five feet tall with greasy black hair and a tight crop top on and black boots and skin-tight leggings. As she glanced over at Stewart, the girl stared, her large, round earrings dangling almost level with her chin. Although at a distance, Stewart could see the abundance of make-up on the girl’s face and she placed her in her late teens.
Turning to Ross, she asked, ‘Do you see that girl by the car?’
Ross stepped out of the house and looked up. ‘No. Why?’
‘She’s just there . . .’ Stewart saw their car now standing on its own and the girl nowhere in sight. She must have moved quickly. ‘There was a girl there, Ross, late teens but looking like a real tart. She was watching us. Could have sworn she was.’
As they reached the car, Ross pointed to the rear door on the passenger side. The legend ‘Pigs’ was scrawled on the door, possibly with a key or something else sharp. ‘Sweet place,’ said Ross, ‘I hope your list has more upmarket places from here on in.’
But Stewart tried to think of the face she had seen. It was at a distance, but something was bothering her, like she knew the face from somewhere. But it had only been a brief look from afar and she was unable to pull the feeling from her head and put it into a real context. ‘Next stop, Ross, let’s go.’
Chapter 14
Hope pulled her leather jacket around her shoulders and left her hotel room, walking the corridors back to the main lobby and bar area. The searching of Barra for their two suspects had proved fruitless and even Mr Dickerson or Drummer, or whatever he was called, was proving elusive. Stewart was searching for more leads on the mainland and Hope wished she were there and not on Barra where she felt Macleod was using her in a not-so-helpful way.
Stewart or Ross could organise the manhunt; after all, it did not involve the ingenuity that uncovering the true background of this case required. How had she gone from being in charge of her own case to effectively holding the boss’s hand? The other angle was where was Dusty’s Harbour? If they could find it, they might be able to trace the location of more items from the maps but at the moment they had no idea who Dusty was. Night had fallen and Stewart had sent word about finding MacPhail’s partner and about his children being on the hunt for what was theirs.
Hope walked to the small community hall where Jona Nakamura had continued the work her boss had started before disappearing on the plane. It was all very secretive, and Hope wondered just what was going on with Macleod and Mackintosh, but the woman had seemed far from herself. Still, it had given a great opportunity to Jona to prove herself and despite her horror at the incident on the beach, she was throwing herself into the work.
The hour was past eleven when Hope entered the community hall and nodded to the single police officer at the door. Most of the evidence was sitting around in bags and overnight there would be protection around it. Sitting in a small room off the main hall was Jona, no longer in any coveralls or even white lab coat, but sitting in her jeans and grey t-shirt, glasses on, and typing furiously.
‘Hey,’ said Hope walking into the office, ‘how’s things in the world of forensics?’
‘Too busy. There’s too much paperwork when you’re in charge. I know most of it but when you’re not the one who has to do it normally it takes a bit of getting your head around it. I should be finished soon though. I take it you were looking for a drink or maybe a bit of meditation time.’
‘I’m actually looking for that cross. Did you get much of a chance to establish where it’s from?’
‘We were examining it and found nothing on it that indicated who had touched it or how long it has been buried. And no, as for the where’s-it-from, that’s priority tomorrow.’ Jona looked up at Hope’s begging face. ‘Unless of course you want it tonight.’
‘Sorry, but I do. I’ve been stuck on the manhunt and not doing what I do best and actually investigating. Macleod’s got his new star, Stewart on that. Looks at things differently.’
Jona laughed at the impersonation. ‘You need to be easy on him; he’s under stress big time.’
‘And we are not? Not much point getti
ng a promotion to Sergeant if I can’t still produce the goods and crack the case.’
‘Well, you have me for an hour at the most. I’m up at six and I need to get a decent sleep because I haven’t stopped today. Let’s hope I can sleep tonight as well. Although Macleod’s face when he thought you and I were an item was priceless.’
‘Yes,’ said Hope, ‘one I’ll hold forever. He’s so very staid at times. Really struggles with the whole diversity thing. Maybe that’s why he’s surrounded himself with women, and Ross, of course. Still he’s given me my shot so let’s take it. Let’s see what we can find about this cross.’
Jona stood and made her way out into the main hall before bringing back the gold item and laying it, still in an evidence bag, on the table. ‘You type,’ said Jona, ‘my back’s shot.’
Sitting down, Hope placed her hands on the keyboard and Jona pointed to an application on the screen. Within a minute the pair were beginning their search through a database of stolen items that encompassed the last forty years.
‘There is one strange thing,’ murmured Jona, looking over Hope’s shoulders.
‘What’s that?’
‘Why is it on its own? Where is everything else with it? It seems a strange thing for this item after all the maps we have found and the hunting down and murders. I mean it’s a sweet looking piece of gold work, but I don’t think it’s going to be worth more than maybe twenty thousand.’
Hope turned and looked up at her colleague who even with Hope sitting down did not stretch much above her head. ‘Since when was twenty thousand not a worthwhile sum to kill for?’
‘Well, you would know more about that than me but it’s not a standout piece. I mean, it’s not well known in the collector’s world today. I keep up with these things and that’s not something people would instantly recognise. Of course, if it’s not been on the scene for a while . . .’
‘There’s a wide range of ages involved in this,’ said Hope. ‘Alasdair MacPhail was in the older generation; Karen Gibbons’ mother was much older. Jane Thorne was not young. And then there’s Mr Drummer or whatever he’s actually called. He’s certainly of an age.’
‘Well the database is showing nothing so let’s go wider. Maybe it wasn’t from the UK,’ suggested Jona. ‘Maybe they brought it back from abroad. That might be why we don’t recognise it. Click on the European database link.’
Hope selected the desired app and then input basic details before allowing the system to complete its search. As she waited, Jona disappeared out into the larger hall before coming back with two cups of tea. Hope gratefully took one and then noticed Jona looking intently at her mobile.
‘Something important?’
‘No, not case related. I have to move out of my digs in two weeks and I still haven’t found anywhere new. I was hoping to buy but I haven’t found the right place so I’m trying to rent but it’s not going well.’
‘Great time to have to be looking as well with all this dumped on your shoulders,’ said Hope. Then she had a thought. ‘Why not move into mine until you find somewhere?’
‘I thought you had a man, Allinson, isn’t it? Be a bit crowded with the three of us.’
‘Oh, he doesn’t live with me. We thought about it, but I’m not convinced he’s the one yet. That sounds so Macleod, doesn’t it? No living together until you’re married and all that. I mean what’s it take to move out if it goes wrong.’
‘Takes a lot.’ With that Jona turned away and Hope wondered if she’d hit a sore spot.
‘The offer’s there, Jona. I’d benefit from having someone fun about the place. I don’t have many female friends, or any friends really.’
‘I suppose moving all the way up to Inverness meant starting again.’
Hope nodded but she knew it was not true and the real issue was she was a loner. But Jona was easy to have about and would stop Allinson from treating her house like his next home-to-be.
The screen beeped and Hope looked at the returned search results. There were over forty investigations in over ten countries with a missing cross. She sighed. It did not look as if she would get wrapped up by midnight.
‘Why don’t you head on, Jona, and I’ll do this? I reckon it’ll take a good two to three hours at least. And if we have to call someone, it’ll be tomorrow. You go and get some rest.’
‘Got a better idea,’ said Jona and grabbed her mobile again. Jona smiled at Hope who looked back bemused and then smiled wistfully as Jona broke into a conversation with someone on the mobile in Japanese. At least Hope believed it was Japanese, but she could not be sure due to her abysmal knowledge of languages.
The conversation was intense and then Jona took a picture of the cross in the evidence bag. There was more heated discussion and then Jona turned to Hope and warned her to smile. The mobile was brought up and there was more excited talk. But the voice for all the pace it was going at sounded older and male. And then abruptly, the call was closed.
‘Okay,’ said Hope, ‘that was a little weird.’
‘Sorry, it’s Grandfather. He wanted to know who he had been woken up for at this late hour. I told him my gorgeous red-headed friend and he insisted on seeing you.’
‘Okay,’ said Hope a little bemused. ‘And was he helpful?’
‘Very, otherwise I wouldn’t have shown him you at all. He’s very clever and a bit of a genius when it comes to antiques. He was a professor in London but he’s in Glasgow now, or on the outskirts of it. He said he has to meet you, though. But you don’t have to; he’s just an old man. Still sharp when his mind’s on it though. Although these days with the Parkinson’s, he does get tired quickly.’
‘As much as he sounds like fun, Jona, what did he say? Did it help?’
‘Yes, sorry, Grandfather is always fun but difficult. He says it’s from Spain and he reckoned it was not a mere twenty thousand, but it could be a lot more. He suggested there was a major robbery in Madrid back in the seventies when a lot of artefacts that were of that type were taken. He thinks it was seventy-three but he’s not sure. He also drifted into talking about flowerbeds and decent restaurants in Glasgow. He’s not the most cogent at times these days.’
‘He sounded cogent, going off like a train chatting to you,’ said Hope, sounding encouraging.
‘Yes, but unfortunately if you knew the language, you’d see that one sentence barely follows the other. And that’s not the Parkinson’s.’ Jona raised her hand to her hair, twisting it and looked out to the quiet hall beyond the office. Then she broke into a quick grin. ‘He also said I should move in with you.’
‘Yeah, did he think we would get on?’
‘No,’ laughed Jona, ‘he said it would be a great excuse to come visit you. He talked about impressing you with his car. He hasn’t had one for thirty years.’ Her laugh turned into a bittersweet raising of the eyebrows.
‘The offer’s there,’ said Hope and returned to the screen looking for Madrid and the 1970s. About halfway down the lists, she saw an entry that made her sit up straight and click on the screen. ‘Jona, he might have been right.’
Hope felt a hand on her shoulder and Jona’s head appeared beside her, fixated on the screen. Sure enough, there was a robbery of a national museum in 1972 which involved the theft of a collection of gold pieces. The pieces were hundreds of years old and Hope clicked the inventory button with shaking hands. She could feel the excitement flow through her and Jona’s grip on her shoulders grew tighter.
As Hope scanned the items, all detailed in a box format, her eyes simply swam at the information. Trying hard, she couldn’t make head nor tail of the catalogue system and began to flop back into her seat in frustration. But Jona fired a finger at the screen.
‘There, click that. Let’s see a photograph.’ The screen opened up into a large photograph as the button was clicked and Jona screamed with delight.
‘That’s it! That’s the one, Hope.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Of course, I’m sure. Look at
it. The curvature is the same. Check for any markings.’
‘You do it,’ said Hope, excited but lost as to how to identify the cross as a match.
Hope stood up as Jona leaned across and stared at the screen. She then picked up the cross before turning to Hope and embracing her in a massive, dancing hug. Hope’s arms wrapped around Jona’s neck and she allowed herself a jump for joy before the two of them stopped and looked at each other. Together, they burst out laughing.
‘I guess it’s late,’ said Jona. ‘That was a bit . . . emotional.’ And she laughed again holding the cross in the evidence bag up before her.
Chapter 15
Macleod pulled on his shirt and slowly did up the buttons as he looked at himself in the mirror. It had been a difficult phone call and not one he had wished to have before starting a long day on a case that was struggling to go anywhere. But when he had seen the picture on his smart phone of his smiling partner Jane, he had leapt to answer it. And the brief few seconds of conversation with her had been good. It was not what was said, just the sound of her voice.
But she was with Hazel Mackintosh, in a hotel room in Glasgow and the senior forensic officer was not in a good way. It seemed her obvious mortality was now playing on her mind in a way he knew well. After his wife’s suicide back on Lewis all those years ago, he tried to fathom where she had gone, where anyone went after they died. Some had told him because she died at her own hand she was lost, gone to whatever hell existed on the other side. Having been brought up in a Christian faith that offered the reward of heaven, he had been faced with the other side of the equation, the hell that pushed so many into a declaration of faith.
No, that was harsh. He had never been scared into believing in his God. But he had more questions than answers these days and maybe that was right. Mackintosh had never spoken of her beliefs on what came after this life, but she was definitely afraid of what it may hold. Or maybe she was just afraid of losing this world. But in her hour of anguish she was looking to him. A solitary woman who had briefly flirted his way, had now dropped the whole weight of her fears on his shoulders, when Jane, good and supportive as she was, seemed too aloof to the woman. Well, they barely knew each other. Hazel and he had at least some connection.
