18

  On the screen, PC Tom Kinghorn yawned into his fist while he mucked about on his phone. Jet-black hair and rough stubble covering a cleft chin. He looked up and dropped his phone onto the desk. ‘Sorry, sir. Didn’t see you there.’

  ‘It’s okay. I’m DCI Brodie Cathro.’ He pointed at Winter. ‘I take it DI Winter’s briefed you on the case?’

  ‘She has, aye.’ Kinghorn leaned forward. ‘I’ve been investigating Liam’s disappearance. Got the call out on Friday, just after midnight.’ He yawned. ‘Most night shifts are sorting out neds fighting on Lothian Road, but I got sent to Corstorphine nick to cover sickness.’

  ‘How about you tell us what you know about the boy?’ Cathro’s voice got a lot more Scottish from speaking to another native.

  ‘Okay…’ Kinghorn rifled back through his notebook, the microphone picking up each page turn. ‘Liam McKendrick. Thirty-three. Married to Zora. Got a kid who’s three.’

  ‘Boy or girl?’

  ‘Boy. Don’t know the name, sorry.’ Kinghorn smirked. ‘Liam’s a WILLIE.’

  Winter scowled. ‘A what?’

  ‘Works in London, lives in Edinburgh.’ Kinghorn laughed. ‘Heard a programme about that on Radio Four a few years ago.’ He started blushing. ‘Half six flight to Heathrow on a Monday morning, then the twenty past seven back on a Friday. Brutal, eh?’

  ‘About as bad as a shift rotation.’ Cathro sat back and made a note. ‘Is he well off?’

  ‘We’re not talking stinking rich here. But a decent house, aye. Probably got a monstrous mortgage.’

  Cathro clicked his tongue again. ‘Anybody been in touch to blackmail her?’

  ‘Nope.’

  ‘But you have spoken to his family, right?’

  ‘His wife, Zora. Aye. She’s… I mean, she just broke down in front of us, to be honest with you. Crying about how she’s a widow. How is she going to raise her kid on her own? That kind of thing.’

  ‘Wait, so you told her Liam’s dead?’

  ‘No, sir, I didn’t. DI Winter’s only just informed me… What I mean is, she just assumed.’

  ‘Got it.’ Cathro nodded slowly. ‘You get anything else out of her?’

  ‘Didn’t really, sorry.’ Kinghorn scratched at his head. ‘Thing is, I need to get on. Been called onto another case.’

  ‘I was Lothian and Borders for years. Who’s running it?’

  ‘Eh, Superintendent Ravenscroft, I think?’

  ‘Don’t know him.’ Cathro checked his watch. ‘Thanks for your time, Constable.’ He smiled at Kinghorn. ‘DI Winter will be in touch.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Winter leaned over and ended the call, knowing exactly what was coming…

  ‘Okay, Sam, can you head up to Edinburgh in the morning?’

  And there it was…

  ‘Sure, but that means I’ll have to cancel my interview.’

  ‘I’ll do it. Always better if it comes from the boss.’ Cathro had caught Kinghorn’s yawn, even over a video call. ‘Get yourself up there, speak to his wife, then get to the bottom of his movements. Speak to his employer. All of it. Whole nine yards. Just because he was killed down here doesn’t mean it’s not because of something that happened in Edinburgh.’

  19

  Elliot sat in the interview room, nibbling at her nails. This must’ve been what Davie felt like when they’d closed in on him…

  Fucking hell. She was shivering. Everything vibrated – her whole body. How the hell was she going to cope with this?

  Was she?

  She shut her eyes and kept them closed, trying to figure out why the hell she’d hit Marshall.

  Truth was, she’d put two and two together when Marshall called her and, of course, she’d had to warn Gary.

  Otherwise…

  Otherwise everything would’ve gone to shit. Really badly.

  But when he didn’t pick up, she had to intervene.

  She hadn’t expected Marshall to actually be in the flat… She’d seen him cross the road and storm inside, knowing push had come to shove.

  So stupid…

  She’d needed to stop him before he nicked Hislop. Facing a murder charge, Hislop would’ve dobbed everyone in to save his own skin. He’d punished members of his crew who’d even just thought about doing that.

  She’d be his big bargaining chip and she knew it.

  The door opened and a tall superintendent had to stoop below the door to enter. Eyebrows like centipedes. Dyed hair that was kidding nobody. He sat down, but there was nothing but judgement in those eyes. ‘Good evening, Andrea. I’m Superintendent Brett Usher and I work for Police Scotland’s Professional Standards and Ethics department.’ She’d thought that cut-glass Morningside accent had passed into history, but it was right in the room with her.

  She gave him a warm smile. ‘Good evening, sir.’

  The door opened again and a wee lassie in her thirties slipped in, then sat next to him. Didn’t introduce herself, but supers always had bag carriers – someone to write the notes, take the minutes – and they weren’t important. Mousey McMouseface either didn’t have a name or wasn’t going to give one.

  Usher waited for her to get her notebook out. ‘I see you have neither a lawyer nor a force federation rep?’

  ‘Don’t need one.’

  ‘Are you happy to commence?’

  ‘No time like the present, sir.’

  ‘Very well.’ Usher started up the digital recorder. ‘Interview with DI Andrea Elliot commenced at eight oh six pm. Present are myself, Detective Superintendent Brett Usher, DS Bridgeen O’Donnell and DI Andrea Elliot.’ He cracked his knuckles, but a few of them got stuck and sounded all squishy. ‘Okay, Inspector. How about you relay your movements today.’

  ‘No comment.’

  Usher smiled again and there was actually something in those eyes this time – amusement alongside the judgement. ‘So that’s your strategy, eh?’

  Elliot shrugged – didn’t mean to, but she did.

  ‘I’m going to cut to the chase here, Inspector.’ Usher leaned forward, narrowing his eyes at her. ‘We know what you’ve been doing. We know what you and your late husband have been doing.’

  Clueless sod had no idea. ‘What’s that, then?’

  ‘David Elliot was convicted of his part in leaking information pertaining to a drugs investigation.’ Usher reached over for a pile of papers and started shuffling through them. ‘At the time, you claimed to have no knowledge, even though your login was used to access key information.’ He looked up at her. ‘Correct?’

  Elliot said nothing.

  ‘Fast-forward to today, when you attacked DCI Rob Marshall. As far as I was aware, Inspector, you were allocated to the Edinburgh Major Investigation Team. And yet you seem to be very aware of everything pertaining to a separate drugs squad investigation.’

  ‘One, I was in to finish some paperwork before I went through to Glasgow to see my daughter, Sam. DCI Marshall called me to ask if I knew where DI Craven was. I didn’t.’

  ‘The desk you were at was in the Edinburgh MIT’s office space, correct?’

  ‘That’s right, sir. The drugs team were based there too.’

  ‘And you’d been able to acquire sensitive information regarding a critical surveillance operation against Gary Hislop. Is that correct?’

  ‘Of course not. I was investigating the murder of Gail McBride.’

  ‘And yet you happened to leave the office to attack DCI Marshall.’

  ‘No comment.’

  ‘I’m not sure that strategy is going to be that fruitful for you, Inspector. My team will be going through your whole life and tearing it apart, okay? We’re already interviewing your parents. Next it’ll⁠—’

  ‘Who’s got my boys?’

  ‘They’re fine. We will be speaking to your sons and daughter, of course, as well as your neighbours and your colleagues. Pretty much anyone who’s ever met you. We’ll sift through your telephony. And we’ll find out precisely how long you’ve been leaking information to Gary Hislop.’

  ‘No comment.’

  ‘And we know you’re romantically involved with him.’

  How the hell did they know that?

  Had Hislop already given them the video?

  She swallowed. No – they’re talking about those few months in 2000, not now.

  Say nothing…

  ‘No comment.’

  ‘It’s a proven fact that your late husband was leaking information to Mr Hislop.’

  ‘Aye, and it cost him his life in prison, didn’t it? He wasn’t protected.’

  ‘I’m wondering if you were the one who recruited him into Mr Hislop’s world.’

  ‘Of course I didn’t.’ Elliot slammed her fist off the table. ‘Do you think I’d be that stupid?’

  Usher smiled again, this time with mirth in his eyes. ‘You attempted to attack DCI Marshall with a hammer in an attempt to save Mr Hislop from arrest, so we know exactly how stupid you might be. It didn’t work. DCI Marshall overpowered both of you, so Mr Hislop’s in custody also. But not without cost. A witness was stabbed in the ensuing melee. Ava Hall. Do you know where she is?’

  Elliot stared down at the wood. ‘No idea who that is.’

  ‘Inspector, do you really expect me to believe that?’

  Using her rank stung.

  Elliot shook her head. ‘I’m saying nothing.’

  Usher took one last look at her, then clearly saw she meant business. ‘Very well. This was merely an opportunity for you to give a full and frank confession, but you don’t seem to be prepared to progress on that basis, so we shall leave you to it. But rest assured we’ll be questioning you in detail over the next few hours before numerous charges are brought. You’ll be appearing in court on Tuesday morning, then you’ll be remanded in HMP Edinburgh.’

  Saughton…

  The number of people she’d sent there over the years… Male and female…

  Elliot swallowed, but her throat was thick. ‘My boys… Have… Has someone got them?’

  ‘Oh, yes. Rather than have them taken into care, my team have spoken to your mother and explained the situation to her. She’s going to look after them long-term.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Elliot couldn’t bring herself to look at him as he left the room.

  Aye, this was all kinds of fucked up.

  20

  Winter hated living here.

  She could never find a parking bay close enough to the house and tonight the nearest was a five-minute walk away. Modern estates had allocated parking, but not here. In the distance, the O2 Arena glowed in the late-evening gloom, the metalwork sparkling through a light show for whatever gig was on tonight – she’d no idea who was playing there. Had been ages since she’d been to a concert anywhere and listened to any music other than what Sophie wanted.

  She turned the corner and the lonely little box sat there, dark and unloved. An ex-council house in the outer reaches of North Greenwich, an area steadfastly refusing to gentrify, even with all the construction nearby.

  That estate agent’s FOR SALE sign driven into the bare lawn…

  Winter unlocked the door and went inside. ‘Honey, I’m home.’ But the words just echoed around the empty house. She realised she hadn’t eaten since those sandwiches at lunchtime, so she kicked off her shoes, then headed into the kitchen.

  The fridge was empty, save for a ready meal on a bare shelf. Out of date, but it probably wouldn’t kill her – like Dad always said, ‘Best Before doesn’t mean Bad After’.

  She stabbed the lid with a bent fork, then put it on to cook, the microwave buzzing and rumbling as it heated up her rigatoni pasta bake for one.

  Silence, save for some kids running around outside and enjoying the bank holiday Sunday.

  Starving.

  Sod it. She reached into the cupboard and broke off a few squares of that fancy chocolate. Barely tasted it, so she put it back. She needed to focus and to start getting her clothes ready for tomorrow, so she headed up the stairs.

  Light spilled out around the spare room door.

  She reached over to the door and opened it.

  Daniel stood there, flicking through a cardboard box. ‘Oh, hey.’

  ‘Hey.’ Winter walked over and wrapped him in a hug. ‘Surprised you’re here.’

  He broke free from her. ‘Decided we needed to declutter even more than we already have.’

  ‘Does that mean you’ve done the postmortem?’

  ‘Get the results to you first thing tomorrow.’ Daniel rested the box on the carpet and put his hands in his pockets. ‘How are you feeling?’

  ‘About what?’

  ‘About what you saw, Sam. A man being burned to death in front of you.’

  Winter let out a deep breath. ‘To be honest, I feel like shit. I saw him burn to death. I had to pull Cathro back so he didn’t charge in. So gung-ho.’ She shut her eyes.

  He wrapped his arms around her. ‘By the time I get them, Sam, they’re ex-people. I can see the life they would’ve lived. And the life they could’ve lived is what makes me do the job. If I can find out why they’ve died, then I can help you lot find out who did it.’

  ‘Speaking of which, Cathro’s told me to fly up to Edinburgh first thing in the morning.’

  ‘Edinburgh?’ Daniel picked up the box again. ‘Why?’

  ‘Victim lives there.’

  ‘And here was me hoping it’d be you attending my postmortem tomorrow.’ He held out the box for her.

  Winter walked over to the open cupboard, then rested the box on the top of all the others. At least it’d show how much storage this place had… ‘Do you think we’re going to manage to sell this place?’

  ‘The important thing is we don’t need to rush, okay? Let’s just see how it goes. We’ve got cash saved up. I mean, I can do the viewing on Tuesday if you’re going to be stuck on this case? I’m sure your dad will take Sophie, won’t he?’

  ‘What did I do to deserve you?’

  He held out his arms. ‘Come here and show me you’re worthy.’

  She let him hold her as he kissed her. ‘Am I worthy, O anointed one?’

  Daniel laughed. ‘If anyone’s not worthy, it’s me.’

  Winter broke off and looked up at him, into those dark eyes. ‘My flight’s at half six tomorrow so I was planning on staying at Dad’s tonight. Is that okay?’

  ‘Course it is. You can see our daughter for a start.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘I’ll stay here tonight. Easier to get to Lewisham for the postmortem.’

  ‘I’ll miss you.’ Winter kissed him deeply, then went into the master bedroom and found her suitcase in the cupboard. She pulled it out and unzipped it – already made up for the last time she’d had to go elsewhere. She sniffed the clothes and they were still fresh. Ish. She grabbed her Kindle and her earplugs from the bedside table, then stuffed them into the pocket.

  Good. All set to head back there for the first time in years….

  21

  Marshall pulled up outside Isla’s house, a detached new-build on the Melrose Gait development, closer to Gala than its namesake. He got out of the car and walked over to the front door, then rang the bell.

  Some kids played down the street, looking too young to be out at this time.

  His phone rang.

  Isla calling…

  He answered it. ‘Hi, I’m just outside.’

  ‘I know. And I’m in the shower.’ Hissing in the background. ‘Let yourself in.’

  ‘Oh, okay.’ Marshall tried the door. ‘Thanks.’ He opened the front door and went in.

  Her cat had found his true home – sleeping on the sofa in the window.

  Marshall walked over and stroked his head. ‘Sorry, pal, but I’ve been very busy recently.’ He sat on the sofa next to Robert Smith and tickled him under the chin. ‘You’re a lovely wee guy, aren’t you?’

  Shite.

  He was starting to see Robert Smith as his cat, wasn’t he?

  Poor Zlatan would have a wee pal soon…

  Or was he getting ahead of himself?

  Robert Smith pounced on his arm, gripping it loosely in his claws. Not enough to break the flesh, but it still nipped.

  Marshall stroked his tummy. ‘You’re a funny wee devil, aren’t you?’

  He got a meow back for that.

  ‘Alexa, play “The Love Cats” by the Cure.’ Isla was standing in the doorway, dressed in her gown and grinning away as she dried her ear.

  ‘Playing “The Love Cats” from Isla’s Apple Music.’

  Boppy faux jazz fizzed out of the speakers.

  Isla walked over and perched on his lap, smelling all fresh and clean. ‘Nice to see you.’

  Marshall held her tight. ‘And you.’

  She leaned over and kissed him on the lips. ‘So, we need to⁠—’

  Marshall’s phone blasted out in his pocket. ‘Fuck’s sake.’ He fished it out and checked the display.

  Ravenscroft calling…

  ‘It’s the bloody boss. Do you mind?’

  ‘Of course I do, but I understand.’ She shuffled off, then went back to drying herself. ‘Alexa, pause.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Marshall leaned back down on the sofa and answered the call just as the music stopped. ‘Evening, sir.’

  ‘Robert. Listen, sorry I’ve been off the reservation, but I’m sure you can imagine what the bosses are thinking… Lots of tough discussion, but nothing in the way of constructive paths forward. Upshot is we’ve got a comprehensive comms strategy, but nothing else on the investigative front.’

  ‘As expected.’ Marshall let Isla lean into him as she reached across him to stroke Robert Smith. ‘Did you⁠—’

  ‘I got your voicemail pertaining to the van, yes. Have you managed to track it down yet?’

  ‘Rakesh has put out a BOLO for it, sir.’

  ‘Right, right. Wait. Sergeant Siyal?’

  ‘I’ve seconded him to the investigation, sir.’

  ‘Miranda won’t be impressed.’

  ‘He’s a good officer, sir. One of the best. And I can handle DCS Potter.’

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38