The dead of appin, p.16
The Dead of Appin, page 16
“I hope you’ll be following up this business of the Holiday Village? He told me he was very worried about it.”
“No comment,” said Blue.
“Sorry. I’ll be quiet now. Oh, look, there’s the airport. Wasn’t it down that road opposite that that car was burnt out with the body in it? Where Angela was staying. Do you think they killed her too?”
“No comment,” said Blue.
“Sorry. What kind of car’s this? Archie’s wasn’t very comfortable. He reckoned it could go through two feet of water without the engine cutting out, but he never did that when I was with him. And it was awfully draughty. Does this one have SatNav?”
Blue managed to endure her small talk without needing to offer anything compromising to the investigation in the way of response until they reached the police station car park. But he was relieved when they got out of the car and he led her into the reception area.
***
30
He left her in one of the armchairs there whilst he went to book the interview room at the end of the corridor on the first floor with the view over the bay. It was designed to be a non-threatening environment in which to talk with witnesses, rather than the more confrontational rooms in the basement. A small kitchen off enabled coffee and biscuits to be offered to those being interviewed. He popped into the incident room. McCader sat at his laptop whilst Vunsells, now wearing a Fair Isle pattern jumper and jeans, instead of her uniform, stared at the screen of a large PC. He asked Vunsells to sit in on the talk with Arlene; it was official policy wherever possible to have a woman present when a woman was being interviewed.
He caught a whiff of perfume in the room, lingering on from the previous week. “No sign of our friendly councillor so far?”
“Not yet,” said McCader, “but it’s almost nine. She could be in soon. If she’s coming.”
The door opened, and Acacia Tallon swept into the room. “Good morning everyone,” she said, as if bestowing a special blessing on each of them. “Ah, there you are, Inspector. I tried your room, but it was locked. I hope you’ll be able to bring me up to date on what’s happened over the weekend. ACC Clegg has assured me she has clarified things for you.”
“I’m afraid that’s not possible right now, Ms Tallon. Constable Vunsells and I are about to interview a witness.”
“I’ll sit in on your interview then, and talk to you afterwards.”
“I’m sorry, that’s not possible. Only police personnel are permitted at the interviewing of witnesses. And, of course, lawyers. Those are the rules. The reason’s quite simple: anyone who sits in on an interview could influence the witness’s responses.”
“Who are you questioning?”
“I’m afraid I can’t tell you that either. It’s the rules. The interview will probably take about an hour. If you’d like to wait, I’m sure Sergeant McCader will be happy for you to observe his inquiries.”
Tallon laughed. “Oh dear. I’m afraid you’ve failed to brief yourself adequately on the procedures pertaining to the Community Involvement Programme. I’ve brought you a copy to read.” She produced from her handbag a printed booklet and handed it to Blue. “If you wouldn’t mind looking at page 27, please. You don’t need to read it out to me. You’ll see that it says participants on the programme may sit in on any interview, provided the interviewee agrees.”
Blue read it. She was right. And the booklet looked genuine. The introduction was headed with a photo of ACC Clegg, and at the end was an image of her signature. He recognised in it some of the phrases he’d heard on Saturday afternoon.
“Thank you, Councillor. I was not aware of the existence of this booklet. May I keep it?”
“I’m afraid that’s my own copy, Inspector. Could I have it back?”
Blue handed the booklet back.
McCader stood up. “I’ll nip down to the document store, sir, and get a few. We should all be aware of this.” He nodded to Tallon and left the room.
“He may not be able to get one,” said Tallon. “At the moment I think they’re restricted to participants in the programme. Perhaps ACC Clegg will let you have one, since I’m working with you. Now, who are you interviewing. Under the CIP procedures I have a right to ask.”
“The interviewee is a Ms Muir. I’m not prepared to say anything further unless I receive her permission to do so.”
“As you wish. Note also that it is I who have the right to ask the interviewee whether they are happy for me to observe and, if appropriate, ask my own questions.”
Blue asked Vunsells to collect Ms Muir from the foyer, and led Councillor Tallon up to the interview room. Tallon sat herself at the head of the interview table. Blue put two chairs on one side, and one on the other. Then he opened one of the windows, so that the room was well-ventilated, and went into the kitchen area to put the kettle on. He did not say anything more to the councillor.
Five minutes later, Vunsells led Arlene Muir into the room. Blue felt there was a momentary flicker of recognition on Arlene’s face as she saw Councillor Tallon.
Tallon immediately stood up and extended a hand. “Ms Muir, how do you do? My name is Acacia Tallon. I’m a participant in the Police Scotland Community Involvement Programme, and I’d like ask if I may sit in on your interview. If you are not willing, I shall leave right away. If I do sit in, you may be assured I will observe absolute discretion.” She smiled regally as Arlene shook her hand.
“No,” said Ms Muir, “I’m not bothered if you listen. I’ve nothing to hide, anyway. But I’m sure I know you from somewhere. Haven’t I seen your picture in the papers?”
Ms Tallon smiled graciously. “Yes, that would be it. I’m on the council, so I expect I’m quite well-known in the area.”
“Oh yes, I suppose that would be it. Acacia, did you say? That sounds like a made-up name. I bet your real name is Agnes, or Euphemia. Am I right?”
An ugly scowl momentarily disfigured Tallon’s face, but the mask was quickly restored, and the smile returned, “I think the inspector wants to get on with his interview now.”
Vunsells asked who wanted coffee, and soon she and Blue were settled at one side of the table, and Arlene Muir on the other, with mugs of coffee and a packet of chocolate digestives on the table. Ms Tallon refused coffee.
Blue began. “Ms Muir, I have to advise you that this interview will be recorded, so that there is an accurate record, for the protection of all present.”
“I’m sorry, Inspector,” interrupted Tallon, “I don’t wish to be recorded, so if I wish to contribute, I’ll indicate, and you will switch the recorder off.”
“I’m sorry, Councillor,” said Blue quietly, “that’s not possible. Any signs that the recording has been interrupted could be interpreted as unlawful editing, and will destroy its evidential value. And it must also be clear that you are here, so your name will be given at the beginning of the interview as an observer.”
“But the procedures say that ...”
“These are the procedures I am aware of, and I will adhere to them. Later today I will consult my senior officer and obtain his guidance on the matter. If you do not wish to observe the interview, please say so now, as I intend to proceed.”
“All right, I’ll stay,” grumbled Tallon. “We’ll see what ACC Clegg has to say about this.”
“Can I advise you, Councillor Tallon, to think carefully before making any contribution to the interview? Anything you say could be used in court as evidence of interference with a witness.”
“That’s absurd. What if you start harassing the poor girl? Someone has to take her side.”
“Ms Muir is not accused of anything, and we have no intention of harassing her.”
“Can we get on with it?” said Arlene Muir. “I’d like to get this over with as soon as possible.”
“Of course,” said Blue. He turned on the voice recorder discreetly sunk into a hollow in the centre of the table top, and gave the date and time, and the names of all those present. He asked Arlene to confirm her name and address. She confirmed her name and gave an address in Anniesland, Glasgow. Then Blue led her through all that she had told him the previous day. But he needed more than that.
“Ms Muir, can you tell us how often you met Mr McCandlish?”
“Well, I came up every two or three weeks, usually stayed the weekend, and back on Monday.”
“How close would you say you were to Mr McCandlish?”
“If you mean did we sleep together, the answer is yes.”
“So if he was concerned about something, you believe he would tell you?”
“Yes, I’m sure he would.”
“What issues would you say he was concerned with, as far as you were aware?”
“I’d say the main one was this Loch Laich Holiday Village. He thought it would be very damaging to the environment. All those people so close to the water. I mean, it’s pretty obvious when you think about it.”
“Was he concerned about the companies who were promoting the development?”
“Not really. His main aim was just to stop it. With the council, I mean. I don’t think he got involved with the developers. He had a file in his study somewhere with stuff about the project.”
“Thank you. We’ll look out for that. OK. What other issues was he interested in?”
“Well, you know, green stuff. I can’t give you an example off the top of my head, but he seemed to know about lots of things going on in different countries. All over the world. He was in two minds about beavers and wolves, though. You know, rewilding, they call it. He thought bringing back species that had died out wasn’t always a good idea.”
“Did Mr McCandlish ever visit you at your flat in Glasgow?”
“No. He didn’t like Glasgow, didn’t like any big city. Said he wouldn’t know what to do there. He was right, too. He wasn’t made for city life.”
“Had he suggested making your association more permanent?”
“You mean like getting married, or living together? No, that hadn’t come up, but it probably would have, if only ...” She put her head between her hands, and took several deep breaths.
“Let’s leave it there for today, shall we?” said Blue quietly. “I’ll ask someone to drive you back to the hotel, and keep an eye out for your safety.”
“For today? Does that mean you’ll want to question me again?”
“Yes. I’m afraid it probably does. You’re the closest person we’ve got to Archie McCandlish, and you might, even though you may not realise it, know something that will unlock this case. So if there’s anything you remember that you think might help us, please, tell the officers who are responsible for your protection, and they’ll call me right away.”
“When will I be able to go home, then?”
“That depends on how we get on with the investigation. I hope it won’t be too long. If you’d like to go along with Constable Vunsells, she’ll arrange for you to have a swab, so we can isolate your DNA sequence, and have your photograph taken. These will help to eliminate you from our inquiries. Then she’ll sort out a car for you.”
“What about Arvind, I can’t remember his other name. He told me he has a black belt in karate. I think I’d feel very safe with him. If he’s available, that is. I don’t want to be any trouble.”
“If he’s available, that would be fine. But remember, no talking about the case with him. Ask him to stay there until I send some officers out to relieve him.”
Vunsells left with Arlene Muir.
“Do you have to put her through all this?” said Tallon. “I’m sure she’s told you all she knows.”
“Quite often witnesses actually know a lot more than they think they do. Sometimes a crucial piece of evidence is buried out of sight of their conscious mind, and it takes several nudges to get it out. Sometimes it never comes out.”
***
31
As he and Tallon headed for the stairs, Blue’s phone pinged. “Excuse me, Councillor, I need to deal with this,” he said, turning back towards the room.
“But I’m supposed to ...”
“This may be personal. I’ll tell you if it’s not. I’ll be back in a minute. Please excuse me.” He went back into the room and opened the message. A Ms Morag McCandlish was waiting at reception, hoping to speak to the officer in charge of her father’s case. He phoned the incident room and asked Craig to bring Ms McCandlish up to the interview room. Then he returned to the corridor, where Tallon was still standing, frowning at her fingernails.
“Well?” she asked, with a hint of impatience.
“Mr McCandlish’s next-of-kin has arrived and wants to speak to me.”
“That’s hardly personal.”
“I didn’t say the message was personal, only that it might be. She’s coming up here, so we better go back in.”
Morag McCandlish was a little overweight, and there was grey at the roots of her dyed black hair. She wore a pinched frown, and Blue wondered whether it had ever been thus. Had she been always a dissatisfied child, or did some event interrupt a promising life, to give it a downward twist?
He apologised for keeping her waiting, and was about to offer her coffee, when Councillor Tallon interrupted.
“Ms McCandlish, how do you do? My name is Acacia Tallon. I’m a participant in the Police Scotland Community Involvement Programme, and I’d like to ask if I may sit in on your interview. If you are not willing, I shall leave right away. If I do sit in, you may be assured I will observe absolute discretion.” She smiled ingratiatingly.
“This is a private conversation, not an interview. Goodbye,” said Ms McCandlish.
“But you won’t even ...”
“Didn’t you hear me?” snapped Ms McCandlish. “What are you waiting for? I don’t have all day.” She stared at the councillor until she grunted something inaudible and sloped out of the room.
“Bloody nosey parkers!” said Morag. “Think because they’re involved in a ‘programme’ they can poke their noses in wherever they like. Not enough going on in their own lives, I suspect.”
“Thank you, Ms McCandlish,” said Blue. “Can I offer you some coffee?”
“I don’t drink coffee before midday. But if you have some green tea, that will do.”
Craig disappeared into the kitchen and returned a few minutes later with a mug of insipid green liquid for Ms McCandlish, and coffee for Blue and herself. She put the drinks down, and sat down next to Blue, opposite Morag.
“Thank you for coming to see us, Ms McCandlish,” he began. “This is Constable Craig, who’s here to take any notes that are necessary. Can I say first of all that I’m very sorry for your loss.”
“No need for the cliché, Inspector. And you’ll forgive me for not doing the crocodile tears. He wasn’t a particularly nice man. Yes, he happened to be my father, but I hardly saw him as a child. Always too busy telling other people all about the great outdoors. Especially young women. I kept in touch with him, but only enough to be aware that he was still alive and compos mentis. Flora has nothing to do with him at all. She went to Canada to do her PhD and has never been back. She knows I’d tell her if anything happened. Like this.”
“When was the last time you saw him?”
“About three weeks ago. And not by design, I can assure you. I was in Harvey Nicks, the one in Edinburgh, you understand, looking for ... well it doesn’t matter what I was looking for, I left the place as soon as I’d seen them. Him, with that Arlene woman. Arm in arm, her giving him the little happy pixie look, him almost drooling. Stupid old man! I just hope he hasn’t changed his will in her favour. I’m pretty sure that’s what she’s after. I warned him, but he wouldn’t listen.”
“If you don’t see him much, how did you know about Ms Muir?”
She smiled. “I have a little arrangement with Jenna, she’s the barmaid at the hotel up here. My father goes there quite often, so I give Jenna a little retainer, and she keeps an eye on him, reports on anything I should know about. I give her a bonus for photos, provided they’re relevant, of course, so I knew all about the hussy. She seems to have popped up out of the blue a few months ago, and was soon in his bed, it seems. I have photos of them in the bar at the hotel, and groping each other outside, in the queue for the Lismore boat. Disgusting! Jenna’s very handy with the camera. Then there was the other woman, though she was a lot more discreet.”
“What other woman?”
“This was about a month ago. A Wednesday morning. She looks a bit older than the slut, more tasteful too. I’m sure I’ve got a picture.” She pulled an iPhone out of her handbag and tapped at it. “Yes, here we are. They’re having lunch together, presumably after a morning of sex.”
The photo showed McCandlish at a table with a woman with shoulder length light brown hair and glasses with dark frames. They didn’t look very intimate to Blue. He appeared to be listening carefully – maybe he was getting a bit deaf – while she explained something to him.
“Can we have a copy of this image, Ms McCandlish?”
“Of course. But why? Is she after his money too?”
Blue realised that no-one had told her the exact circumstances of her father’s death. “Can I ask how much you know about your father’s death?”
“Only that there’d been an accident of some sort. There was a policeman at the house, who explained that they were trying to find out exactly what had happened, and I should come here and speak with you. I should have asked that as soon as I arrived. What did happen?”
“We have reason to believe your father was murdered.”
She thought about it for few moments, without any sign of emotion. “How did it happen?”
“Mr McCandlish’s body was found on a bridge near here, a narrow wooden footbridge crossing a salt marsh. We believe however, that he died somewhere else and was brought there. I can’t tell you exactly what he died of, but I’ll be able to give you more information later this afternoon after the postmortem. There were no obvious wounds on his body which would have killed him.”
