The Innocent and the Dead

by Robert McNeill

  ‘Just couple of drunken toe-rags trying to cadge a cigarette,’ Knox said, grinning. ‘Managed to persuade them it wasn’t a good idea.’

  DC Yvonne Mason and her colleague DC Mark Hathaway were sitting at a pair of desks opposite Fulton. Mason, a trim brunette in her mid-twenties, said, ‘One of the two you arrested – David McIntyre I think his name is – was treated at St Leonards for a dislocated shoulder. Mentioned something to his brief about police brutality.’

  Hathaway looked at his computer screen and shook his head. ‘Won’t wash. McIntyre’s been behind a fair bit of brutality himself. Four assaults and two demanding money with menaces charges in the last eighteen months alone. Any number of lesser offences dating back to 1998, when he was a ten-year-old. The little sod’s got a cheek.’

  Knox offered a shrug. ‘He had a knife and was attempting to use it. I stopped him. When he let it drop, his mate tried to pick it up. I stopped him, too. That would be looked upon as reasonable force in any court, Yvonne.’

  ‘Sorry, boss,’ Mason said, flushing slightly. ‘Just passing on what McIntyre was saying.’

  At that moment the door opened and the station DCI entered. Ronald Warburton was a lean man in his late fifties and had a patrician look to him. ‘Morning, everyone,’ he said, glancing around the room. He turned to Knox, ‘The Calton Hill murder, Jack. Any progress?’

  ‘Forensics are underway, sir,’ Knox replied. ‘The pathologist’s almost a hundred per cent sure the victim was strangled. He’ll confirm later today.’

  ‘Who was she?’

  Fulton took a foolscap folder from his desk and opened it. ‘Elizabeth Katherine O’Brian, sir,’ he said. ‘Aged twenty-seven. Hails from Enniskillen in County Fermanagh. Resident in Scotland for eight years. Both parents killed in an RTA when she was four years old. Brought up by her grandparents, both now deceased. Only living relative is a sister, still resident in Northern Ireland.’

  ‘Where in Edinburgh did she live?’

  ‘She stayed at a boarding house in Restalrig Terrace, sir,’ Hathaway said. He nodded to his colleague. ‘DC Mason and I had a word with her landlady this morning, a Mrs Fiona Cuthbertson. O’Brian had roomed there for the last two years.’

  ‘Did you find out where she worked?’

  ‘Yes, sir, I was just about to update DI Knox on that. She was employed at a tanning salon in Leith Walk. Been there for two years. Oh, and we found her car, a Vauxhall Corsa. It was parked on Royal Terrace. It’s with the forensics team.’

  Warburton nodded. ‘Okay,’ he said, then he turned to Knox. ‘It will come as no surprise, Jack, that the chief constable’s taking a particular interest in this case. The media was on to us the moment it was discovered Calton Hill had been closed. The council and Holyrood’s tourism minister are breathing down our necks, too. We need a result, and quickly. I want you to head the Major Incident Team, working with your colleagues here.’ He went to the door and added, ‘Please, Jack, keep me up to date.’

  ‘I will, sir,’ Knox replied.

  Warburton left the room, then Knox turned to Fulton, ‘Right, Bill,’ he said. You and I’d better pay that tanning outfit a visit.’ He turned to Hathaway. ‘What’s its name, Mark?’

  Hathaway looked at his notes. ‘Sophisticated Solaire, boss.’

  Knox nodded, then said, ‘Oh, before we go. The SPA examiners left me an itemised note of the stuff taken for forensics. There was no mobile phone on the list.’

  Hathaway and Mason gave Knox a disbelieving look, then Mason said, ‘Can’t imagine she wouldn’t have possessed one, boss.’

  ‘My thoughts exactly,’ Knox said. ‘Get on to the SPA team and ask them to confirm, will you, Mark? Any calls she made or received might prove important.’

  Chapter Three

  Sophisticated Solaire was situated near the foot of Leith Walk, a short drive from Gayfield Square. As Knox and Fulton entered, they were greeted by a girl in her late teens, who was seated behind a reception desk facing the door.

  ‘You’re from Tanwell Maintenance?’ she said. ‘Adele’s been expecting you.’ She pointed to the rear of the premises. ‘It’s one of our larger cabinets. Hasn’t been working since Wednesday.’

  Knox glanced at an ebony nameplate on the desk inscribed with white lettering. It read Shona.

  ‘You’re Shona?’

  ‘Yes,’ the girl replied hesitantly.

  He showed her his warrant card. ‘We’re not from Tanwell Maintenance, Shona. We’re police officers. I take it Adele’s the manager?’

  The girl appeared nonplussed. ‘Oh, I’m sorry, I thought you were–’ She paused for a moment, then added, ‘Yes… yes, she is.’

  ‘Can we have a word with her, please?’

  Shona nodded. ‘Sure, I’ll go and get her.’

  A few moments later, Shona returned, accompanied by a buxom blonde in her late thirties. Knox saw a hint of apprehension on the woman’s face. ‘Shona tells me you’re police,’ she said. ‘You want to speak to me?’

  ‘You’re the manager?’

  ‘Yes, I’m Adele Thomson. What’s this about?’

  ‘I’m Detective Inspector Knox and this is Detective Sergeant Fulton,’ Knox said, then nodded to the rear of the premises. ‘You’ve an office? Maybe we could talk better there?’

  ‘Yes, at the back of the shop,’ Thomson replied, then looked at her watch and turned to Shona. ‘First appointment’s at ten, Shona, love. Remember there’s a few bookings free this afternoon if anyone calls.’

  Shona nodded, then Knox and Fulton followed Thomson to a small room at the back furnished with a desk, chair and single filing cabinet. ‘Sorry, I can’t offer you a seat,’ she said. ‘Barely enough room to swing a cat in here.’

  ‘It’s okay,’ Knox said. ‘We don’t mind standing.’

  Thomson picked up a packet of cigarettes from the table. ‘You don’t mind if I smoke?’

  ‘No,’ Knox said. ‘Go ahead.’

  Thomson took out a cigarette, lit it, and drew in the smoke. She exhaled a few seconds later and said, ‘Keep meaning to give these things up.’ She shook her head. ‘Haven’t the will power, though.’

  She took another drag, then sat down and glanced at Knox. ‘Sorry, I’m wittering on. What did you want to talk to me about?’

  ‘A young woman who works for you, Elizabeth O’Brian?’

  ‘You mean Katy?’ Then, seeing Knox’s baffled look, she added, ‘Elizabeth’s her first name, she prefers to be called by her middle name, Katherine… Katy for short.’ She flicked the cigarette on an ashtray, then said, ‘Yes, she works for me, due in around eleven. Why?’

  ‘I’m sorry to have to tell you she’s dead,’ Knox said. ‘Her body was found on Calton Hill early this morning.’

  All colour drained from Thomson’s face. She immediately stubbed the cigarette in the ashtray and covered her mouth. ‘No!’ she said. ‘Katy, dead? How? Why?’

  ‘We’ve reason to believe she was murdered,’ Knox said.

  ‘Murdered? Who in God’s name would do such a thing?’

  ‘That’s exactly what we’re trying to find out,’ Knox said. ‘When did you last see her, Adele?’

  Thomson fumbled for the packet and extracted another cigarette. ‘Just before I closed the shop, around eight o’ clock last night.’

  ‘You knew her well?’ Knox said. ‘She’d worked for you long?’

  ‘Katy’s been with me for four years,’ Thomson said, lighting up. She drew in the smoke, then exhaled and added, ‘I’ve known her since I came up from March.’

  ‘March?’ Fulton said.

  ‘March, it’s a town in Cambridgeshire. I’m English, as you can tell from my accent.’

  Fulton nodded, then Knox said, ‘How did you meet her?’

  Thomson considered this for a moment, then shrugged. ‘Oh, likely you’ll find out anyway. We worked at the Glentyre Sauna together, you know, Glentyre Terrace, off Easter Road?’

  ‘Katy worked at the Glentyre?’ Fulton a
sked. ‘The place that was raided a couple of years back?’

  ‘The same,’ Thomson said. ‘Although we both left a month or two before then. Saw the writing on the wall, so to speak. Everything altered when your lot changed its name to Police Scotland. The old Lothian and Borders force had a more easy-going attitude.’

  Knox knew many of Edinburgh’s sex workers plied their trade in the city’s seedier saunas. The Lothian and Borders force had turned a blind eye to this, reasoning it better to keep prostitutes off the streets; in the early 2000s a number of girls had been seriously assaulted while soliciting near Leith docks.

  When Scotland’s police forces amalgamated on 1 April, 2013, however, the new management had taken a harsher line, authorising raids and closing some of the capital’s more notorious outlets. Though Knox had never worked Vice, he thought the old system safer for the many women who’d been forced back onto the streets since.

  ‘So, you and Katy were both…?’ he paused, searching for the most sensitive expression.

  ‘Sex workers?’ Thomson said. ‘Yes, love, we were. We met when I came to Edinburgh on the run from an abusive marriage back in 2011. Couldn’t find a job for a while. Then somebody suggested the sauna game.’ She gave a little laugh. ‘I was naïve enough when I started to think all it involved was fetching towels and giving the odd massage. I soon found out different.

  ‘Eventually I made it work, though. Decided I’d lie on my back for a couple of years, save hard, and open a little business.’ She nodded to her surroundings. ‘Which I’m happy to say I achieved.’

  ‘You say you knew Katy back then,’ Knox said, ‘and the two years she worked for you. You were friends as well as employer and employee?’

  Thomson drew on her cigarette and thought about this for a moment. She exhaled slowly and said, ‘Friends? Yes, love, I’d say so. Not in a social context, though. We never went out drinking or clubbing or anything like that.’

  ‘But you shared confidences?’ Knox said. ‘Who she was seeing, that sort of thing?’

  Thomson nodded. ‘A little,’ she said. ‘Katy and I are different, really. Me? I’m quite the extrovert. Katy, on the other hand, could be quiet and reserved.’ She stubbed her cigarette into the ashtray. ‘She didn’t tell me everything.’

  ‘Do you know of any relationships she was having?’

  ‘As I say, she didn’t confide in me that much. But I do know a while back she was seeing a guy from Clermiston, who she later told me she dumped. He would call the shop occasionally afterward, asking to speak to her. She never took the calls, though, asking me to tell him she wasn’t here. The last time the bugger became quite aggressive, saying he knew she was here. He ended by calling me an effing bitch, then hung up.’

  ‘How long ago was this?’

  ‘A couple of months back.’

  ‘Do you know the man’s name?’

  ‘Not his surname, no. I think his Christian name is Gary.’

  ‘Know if she was seeing anyone else?’

  Thomson puckered her lips and studied Knox. ‘Not in the romantic sense, no.’

  ‘Meaning?’

  Thomson thought for a moment. ‘There was one guy who was a regular at the Glentyre,’ she said. ‘Well-heeled, a property developer. Every time he came in, he would insist on seeing Katy. He paid Kovach, the guy who owns the sauna, extra for the privilege. Katy told me he tipped her well, too. Anyway, when he heard Katy was leaving to work for me, he asked if she would continue seeing him. Strictly business, of course. She agreed. Told me they met every two weeks or so at one of his properties. She used to say it was a bit on the side for him, and a bit on the side for her.’ Thomson smiled. ‘She meant financially.’

  ‘Do you know if she continued with the arrangement?’

  ‘As far as I’m aware, yes.’

  ‘This businessman, do you know who he is?’

  Thomson’s brow furrowed, thinking. ‘An unusual name … Beech … Birch. No – Murch. Yes, that’s it, Murch. I don’t know anything else about him, though.’

  ‘That’s okay,’ Knox said, then added, ‘other than those two, can you think of anyone she might have had a problem with lately? You know, arguments, disagreements, anything like that?’

  ‘No, I don’t think so. As I’ve said, Katy was quiet. But easy-going. Hard to believe she’d have enemies.’

  ‘Okay,’ Knox said. ‘One more thing. Did Katy have a mobile phone?’

  ‘Of course she did, love, doesn’t everybody? Why?’

  ‘We didn’t find one with her. What network was she on, do you know?’

  ‘She had an iPhone. I’m sure it was with DirectFone.’

  Knox nodded. ‘Fine, Adele. Thanks, you’ve been very helpful.’

  ‘I hope I have,’ Thomson said, then shook her head. ‘And I pray to God you catch the bastard.’

  As Knox and Fulton turned to leave, Thomson said, ‘Wait a minute – I’ve just remembered something. Luka Kovach, the owner of the Glentyre. He’s opening a new sauna somewhere in the West End. He’s been pestering Katy for weeks. Trying to get her to come back and work for him.’

  Chapter Four

  ‘Some character, that Adele, eh, boss?’ Fulton said. He and Knox were seated at a table in the lounge area of the Windsor Buffet Bar. The Windsor, an old-fashioned pub with brass fittings and stained-glass windows, was situated on Elm Row, a part of Leith Walk a short distance from Gayfield Square.

  Knox took a swig of his lager shandy and said, ‘Certainly is. Gave us some helpful pointers, though.’

  ‘The men she mentioned, Gary and Murch? The Kovach guy?’

  ‘Aye. We know where to find the latter. Murch too, if the Glentyre keeps records. Might not have given his real address, though.’

  ‘And the guy she dumped, from Clermiston? Not much good without a surname.’

  ‘Which is where Thomson’s information on the phone network could prove useful.’ Knox took out his mobile, scrolled through the address book, then highlighted a name and pressed call. ‘I’m ringing Hathaway,’ he said. ‘He and Yvonne went to O’Brian’s landlady this morning. Likely he’ll know if forensics have been there yet.’

  Knox heard a click at the other end, then a voice answered: ‘DC Hathaway.’

  ‘Mark? Jack Knox. Has anyone from forensics been to O’Brian’s digs yet?’

  ‘Mrs Cuthbertson’s? Most likely, boss. I told her not to touch the victim’s belongings, said someone would be down later this morning. She replied she hadn’t been near the room. Only went in to hoover it on Mondays and Thursdays.’

  ‘Who was scheduled, do you know?’

  ‘DI Murray.’

  ‘What time?’

  ‘Around mid-morning, I think.’

  ‘Okay. Get on to him, will you? We discovered O’Brian had an iPhone on the DirectFone network. I’d be interested if he found any receipts to confirm this.’

  ‘I’ll get right on it, boss,’ Hathaway said, then added, ‘meanwhile, we’ve been going over some CCTV images. Thought you’d be interested.’

  ‘I am. Fire away.’

  ‘We managed to obtain two tapes with views of the north and south side. One’s from a bank at Blenheim Place and another from a restaurant in Waterloo Place. One covers the Royal Terrace side of Calton Hill, the other Regent Road.’

  ‘See anything?’

  ‘Well, so far we’ve concentrated on the period between 9.15pm and 11pm. Too dark for any degree of clarity after that. Seven people entered and exited via the steps on either side between those times. A woman fitting the victim’s description entered at Royal Terrace at 10.27pm. In the following half hour, the tapes show six people exiting the hill; three tourists with backpacks and cameras, two people walking dogs, and a guy in his early twenties.’

  ‘They all exit within that timeframe?’

  ‘Yes, boss.’

  ‘Good work, Mark,’ Knox said, then looked at his watch and saw it was a quarter to twelve. ‘Bill and I are having an early lunch at th
e Windsor. Likely we’ll be here until twelve-thirty. Let me know if Murray finds that receipt, will you?’

  * * *

  Knox and Fulton both had haddock fillet in breadcrumbs served with baby carrots, peas and new potatoes. Knox cleared his plate moments after Fulton, setting down his cutlery and wiping his mouth with a paper serviette.

  ‘I really enjoyed that,’ he said. ‘Didn’t realise how hungry I was.’

  Fulton took a long draught of shandy and nodded. ‘I was quite ravenous myself, boss. Always like that the day after a late shift.’

  ‘I meant to ask,’ Knox said. ‘You were relieved before two? I phoned Gayfield as soon as I arrived at the Cowgate.’

  ‘Aye, I was. The duty inspector got in touch with St Leonard’s and they sent a DS. He was there within ten minutes.’

  Knox acknowledged this with a nod, took a swig of his lager and lemonade, then a moment later his phone rang. He glanced at the screen, then looked at Fulton and said, ‘It’s Hathaway.’

  He keyed Accept. ‘Mark?’

  ‘Just heard from DI Murray, boss,’ Hathaway said. ‘No phone was found with the body or in her room, but he found receipts that confirm O’Brian was on the DirectFone network. He gave me her number. I’ve been in touch with DirectFone’s Police Liaison Team and asked if they’d check all calls she made and received in the last forty-eight hours. They said they’d give it priority status and reply within the hour.’

  ‘That’s excellent, Mark. Get back to me when you hear.’

  ‘Will do, boss.’

  Knox ended the call and relayed the gist of it to Fulton, then both went to the bar to pay for their lunches. Knox glanced at a television above the gantry as he was given his change. The set was tuned to Lowland Independent Television and a caption at the bottom read: BREAKING NEWS: WOMAN FOUND MURDERED ON EDINBURGH’S CALTON HILL. Jackie Lyon, the channel’s news reporter, was talking to camera, and Gayfield Square Police Station was just visible in the background.

  Knox said to the barman, ‘Turn up the telly, will you, Tommy? I’d like to hear this.’

  The barman took the remote and increased the volume.