Old bones lie, p.19
Old Bones Lie, page 19
Chapter 24
She saw the reason for Eric McGovern’s call as she drew into the yard. Red spray paint across the front of a large steel barn. Clare drew in alongside Chris’s car and climbed out. She squinted against the sun, and read,
Meat is murder
Dickhead
‘It’s quite cleverly done,’ she said, indicating the shadows on the bubble lettering.
‘It’s bloody vandalism. You’d be raging if they’d spray painted the front of Daisy Cottage.’
She shrugged. ‘Suppose. But I’m a lot nicer than our Mr McGovern.’ She clicked to lock the car and stood, taking it in. ‘There are courses you can do now,’ she said. ‘Learn how to do it well.’ She studied the lettering. ‘I’d say our artist’s done a bit before. I’ve certainly seen worse.’
They headed off towards the farmhouse. As they approached the front door Eric McGovern strode round the side, wiping his hands on an oily rag. He nodded towards the barn.
‘You’ve seen it then? Little shits. If I get my hands on them.’
Clare smiled. ‘Maybe we should speak inside.’
He led them into the kitchen and indicated the kettle. Clare suddenly felt weary and Chris didn’t look much better. She’d had next to no sleep and Gavin’s sudden appearance plus the revelation about his involvement in Paul Devine’s escape had made the day seem very long already.
‘That would be lovely,’ she said.
A door opened and Eric McGovern’s daughter strolled in. She was dressed this time, in jogging bottoms and a cropped top.
‘Get the biscuits, Tan,’ he said without looking at her.
She glanced at Clare and turned her gaze on Chris, looking him up and down. Then she bent to open a cupboard door and put a gaily decorated tin on the table. ‘Help yourselves.’
Chris reached into the tin and took out a piece of shortbread. The kettle came to the boil and Eric poured water into a large cream-coloured cafetiere, stirring it before replacing the lid. He carried this over to the table.
‘Mugs,’ he said to his daughter.
She rolled her eyes. ‘Wha’d your last slave die of?’
‘You what?’
She held up her hands. ‘Nothing. Didn’t say a word.’ She strolled languidly back to the cupboards and took out four mugs, setting them down on the table. Then she sat down on the bench seat opposite Chris.
‘Haven’t you homework to do?’ Eric said.
‘Done it.’ She shoved the biscuit tin towards Clare. ‘Help yourself. Mum made it. It’s pretty good.’
Clare smiled and took a piece of the shortbread. Eric plunged the cafetiere and began pouring out mugs.
‘What you gonna do about that out there?’ he said, easing himself down next to his daughter.
There was a tap on the door and it opened a little. A man in a tartan shirt and combat trousers stood as if unsure whether or not to come in. He shot a glance at Clare and Chris then turned back to Eric. ‘Gotta minute, boss?’
‘What is it?’
‘Don’t wanna come in with these boots. Better if I show you.’
Eric stood, stepping back over the bench seat. ‘Back in a minute,’ and he followed the man out.
Clare watched them go then she looked round the room. ‘Nice kitchen.’
The girl followed her gaze. ‘Suppose.’
‘Tan,’ Clare said. ‘Unusual name.’
‘Short for Tansy.’
‘Pretty.’
She shrugged. ‘S’all right.’
‘Sorry about the vandalism,’ Clare said. ‘Pretty rotten for your dad.’
Tansy’s eyes narrowed. ‘He’s not my dad. He’s my stepdad.’ She sipped at her coffee. ‘Dunno why mum married him.’
‘You don’t get on?’
She inclined her head. ‘You’ve heard him. How he speaks to me. He’s a pig.’
Clare wondered about that. The graffiti, while cleverly done, had struck her as quite childish in character. Not the kind of thing animal rights extremists might do. ‘You don’t know anything about the paint out there, do you?’
Tansy laughed. ‘Hah, no. But I could make a guess. School’s full of folk that do it.’
Chris helped himself to another piece of shortbread, ignoring Clare’s look. ‘Might save us time if you gave us a few names.’
She shook her head. ‘Nah. I’m not a grass. Anyway, I couldn’t care less. It’s his farm. Nothing to do with me.’ She finished her biscuit and licked her fingers clean. Then she said, ‘He was hopping mad, though. Not seen him so angry since the tractor thing was taken.’ There was just the hint of a smirk.
Clare thought back. ‘That was Monday, yeah?’
Tansy nodded. ‘Late afternoon. ’Cause he was out on the tractor and he came in about half four. He went out again after tea and it had gone.’
‘Did you notice anything?’ Clare asked. ‘Anyone hanging about?’
‘Nah. It’s a quiet road. Not many cars use it; and the ones that do fly up dead fast. Well, most of them.’
‘Did you see any cars on Monday, maybe going more slowly?’
She considered. ‘Dunno. Maybe.’
Clare put down her coffee. ‘Tansy, it’s really important. If you did see any vehicles driving slower than usual.’
She sighed. ‘I mean, I don’t care about his GPS thing. Serves him right for being such a pig.’
Chris smiled at her. ‘It would help us a lot,’ he said.
She regarded him. ‘See your job…’
‘Yes?’
‘Do you like it?’
Chris thought for a moment. ‘Yeah, on balance, I do. It’s pretty cool most of the time.’
She was quiet for a moment, then she said, ‘Think I could do it?’ She glanced at him and away again, the colour rising in her cheeks.
‘Don’t see why not. If you like we could set up a time for you to come into the station. Have a look round. Chat to some of the cops.’
Her eyes lit up. ‘Seriously? I could do that?’
‘Sure. If you’re really interested.’
Her gaze drifted towards the window and the voices outside. ‘He says I should go to uni. Get a degree. I’d rather do something useful. Like you guys.’
Clare said, ‘We can definitely set up a time for you to look round the station, as long as your parents agree, of course.’
‘I’m sixteen,’ she said. ‘Do what I like.’
‘Well, being a responsible citizen would certainly help us,’ Clare said. ‘And that would include reporting anything suspicious. So, Monday afternoon. Any vehicles we should be looking for?’
‘Okay,’ Tansy said. ‘There was this car. Driving slowly, like it was lost, you know?’
‘Did you notice the type of car?’ Clare asked.
‘Yeah, it was a Megane.’
‘Renault?’ Chris said.
Tansy nodded. ‘My friend Ella’s mum has one. Different colour, though.’
‘What colour was this one?’
‘Like a metallic blue.’
‘You didn’t notice the registration?’ Chris went on.
‘Sorry. Just the colour. There was a van, too.’
‘Van?’ Clare sat forward.
The outside door burst open and swung back on its hinges.
‘You’d better come and take a look at this,’ Eric McGovern said. ‘And bring one of those bag things you lot use.’
Clare rose from her seat. ‘What is it?’
‘Hammer. Chucked into one of my fields. Just as well the lad here spotted it.’ He glanced at their shoes. ‘You can use our wellies,’ he said, indicating a boot room off the kitchen. ‘Field’s pretty muddy.’
He led them across the yard and over the road towards the farm gate down from Maggie’s cottage. ‘Further up this field,’ he said. He opened the gate and waited for them to go through before looping it shut again. Then he led them across the field, stepping from furrow to furrow. Clare followed, her feet awkward in the oversized boots. She could see they were nearing Maggie’s cottage and, as they drew close, he stopped and pointed at the ground.
‘I’m no detective,’ he said, ‘but did you lads no’ say Maggie was hit with something like a hammer?’
She looked down where he indicated and saw an ordinary hammer – the kind she had in her toolbox at home. Glancing towards Maggie’s cottage she imagined the killer throwing it, perhaps in a panic after an adrenaline-fuelled attack. It was possible. But, if it was the murder weapon, would there still be blood or DNA on it after so many days in the open? Might the evidence have been washed off by the weather or destroyed through contact with the soil?
Clare stooped to examine it. There was some discolouration on the steel head and she squinted at it. Was it blood? Or soil? Hard to tell, here in the field. It had rained a few nights ago. That could have washed away any evidence. The ground didn’t seem waterlogged, though, and the hammer lay across the furrows. Maybe the underside had been protected from the elements. She had to hope so.
She didn’t dare move it for fear of destroying anything that might still be there. Reaching into her pocket she took out her phone and dialled Raymond’s number.
Chapter 25
‘Dunno how your search party missed it,’ Chris said.
Clare ignored the jibe. He was clearly still smarting from being side-lined. ‘I told them to concentrate on the field margin. Further than that, well you saw how it was. Sheer chance that man spotted it.’
‘Suppose. What about that grave – you want to apply for an exhumation order?’
Clare considered this. ‘I really don’t. Not if we can avoid it.’
‘It is possible there’s something in the coffin itself,’ he pointed out. ‘Could be Ben’s lot moved in before the gang were able to get to it.’
They were driving back to St Andrews now, approaching the Guardbridge roundabout. ‘That’s true. But the plastic bag makes me think they did retrieve something.’
‘Still worth putting a cop on the grave,’ Chris said.
‘Fair enough. I’ll send someone up before it gets dark.’ She turned left at the roundabout, crossing the River Eden. She sensed Chris was about to speak, but when he didn’t she said, ‘Something on your mind?’
‘I was just thinking.’
‘Spit it out.’
‘Alan – he’s not been charged with anything, has he?’
‘Nope.’
‘Where is he?’
‘Home. Back with Kim. I’ve told him to stay in the house, meantime. We’ve a cop on duty outside.’
‘And the other lad – Gavin?’
Clare hesitated. She couldn’t tell him about Gavin Gates. Not yet, at least.
He picked up on the hesitation. ‘There is something. Fucksake, Clare, tell me!’
‘Chris, it was far from being a straightforward operation. At the moment I’m not authorised to tell anyone the details. All I can say is it’s better for Alan if he’s out the way while we’re looking for the Devines.’
He regarded her for a moment. ‘And that’s it? That’s all you’re going to tell me?’
‘Yup.’
‘Well can I at least help with the search for the Devines?’
They were nearing the town and Clare slowed as they approached a roundabout. She considered this. Alan had been entirely blameless in the whole affair. They knew that now. He was back home safely with Kim. There was no reason Chris couldn’t step in to help with the hunt for Devine. Clearly it was still Ben’s operation but, now he’d taken Clare into his confidence, might he welcome her involvement? She decided it was worth a try.
‘Don’t see why not.’
‘And you’ll send the boy wonder packing?’
She glanced at him. ‘I will not! He makes the best coffee I’ve ever tasted. I’m hanging onto him for as long as I can. And besides, he seems very taken with Zoe.’
Chris laughed. ‘She’ll eat him alive.’
‘You’d be surprised. They have the makings of a pretty cute couple. They make you and Sara look positively middle-aged.’
‘I’ll never be as old as you, though.’
* * *
Jim caught Clare’s eye as she entered the station. ‘Might be something and nothing but that funeral home called a wee while ago. Said one of their vans is missing.’
‘Oh?’ Clare was suddenly alert.
‘Aye. I’ve sent Sara along to get the details.’
‘Let me know when she comes back. Could be there’s a connection to Anthony Devine.’
She made her way to her office and sat down behind her desk, bone weary. She stifled a yawn as the door opened and Max came in. ‘Done you a coffee,’ he said, placing a mug on her desk. ‘And Zoe gave me a peanut butter cake to bring in. Told me to hide it under her desk. I’ll cut you a bit.’
Clare smiled. They really were the perfect couple. He made wonderful coffee and Zoe supplied the cakes. ‘You two should start a café,’ she said. Then she added, ‘Any chance you could do Chris a coffee as well? I’d like the three of us to have a chat. See where we are.’
Max went off to make two more coffees and Clare sought out Chris. ‘Come on, you,’ she said. ‘Max is doing coffee.’
He trudged after her. ‘Bet it’s not all that,’ he said.
‘You wait.’
Five minutes later the three of them sat round Clare’s desk munching on Zoe’s cake.
‘Coffee’s nice,’ Chris admitted, and Max’s face lit up.
‘So,’ Clare began, ‘let’s pool what we know. Start with the Devines.’
‘Three of the gang in custody,’ Max began.
‘But no sign of Paul or Anthony,’ Clare said. ‘Last seen – we think – at that cemetery in Brunton.’
‘Christieson,’ Max said.
‘Eh?’
‘It’s the Christieson family cemetery. Private and not used much. Only when a family member or someone connected to them dies.’
‘It’d make sense for Anthony to stash the jewels there,’ Clare said. ‘If it’s private there wouldn’t be many burials. Quiet enough for a bit of midnight excavation. Let’s assume his brother told him he needed to hide something valuable. Anthony realises there’s a burial coming up in Brunton and he thinks it’s the perfect place. The family turn up, burial happens and he hangs on to help with the backfilling.’
‘Wouldn’t that be done by council employees, though?’ Chris said.
Clare frowned. ‘I’d have thought so. Maybe it’s different when it’s private ground. Or maybe he offered to help the lads. He could have distracted them. Or even slipped them a few quid to turn a blind eye.’
‘I found the remains of a plastic bag down near the coffin,’ Chris said to Max. ‘Could be the jewels had been in some kind of container then put in a bag. Make it easier to spot it when they came to dig it up.’
‘The bag had perished?’ Max said.
‘Yeah. It was in bits but you could still tell it was a bag.’
‘But there was no sign of a box, or anything that could have held the jewels,’ Clare went on. ‘So we think they might have reached the box just as Ben’s team closed in. The gang members were detained and, somehow, the Devines slipped away, possibly with the jewels.’
Max nodded. ‘That makes sense. They’d know where to go.’
Clare looked at him. ‘How would they know?’
‘I checked up on them while you were out,’ he explained. ‘Seems they were brought up in Brunton. Stayed there until the boys were teenagers, then they moved to St Andrews.’
‘So they’d know the area?’
‘They definitely would.’
Chris fell silent. ‘We need to get their photos back on the front pages again. Before they escape the country with the jewels.’
Clare avoided his eye. ‘I’ll have to clear it with Ben.’
He stared at her again and she met his gaze, daring him to push it. For a moment it seemed as if he might. Then he looked down at his coffee, shaking his head. ‘And the murder?’
Clare glanced at Max. ‘I haven’t had time to update you. A hammer was found in the field near Maggie White’s cottage. SOCO examined it in situ and they’ve taken it back to the lab now.’
‘Do we have Anthony Devine’s DNA or prints?’ Chris asked.
Clare shook her head. ‘No. Ben could authorise a warrant to access his house – get DNA from his toothbrush or something like that. But it would take time. Better to focus on finding him.’ She turned to Max. ‘Did you turn up anything else that might help?’
‘Not so far.’
‘Okay. Have a look at Anthony’s social media. Check his likes, photos, any check-ins.’
‘What about the men in custody?’ Chris asked.
‘Ben will interview them,’ she said. ‘I’ll ask to sit in, depending on when it happens.’
Chris frowned. ‘Thing is, can anyone identify them? They were all masked up for the robbery and the abduction.’
‘They were,’ Clare said, ‘and, if we don’t find the Devines or they can’t be persuaded to give evidence against the men, we’ll have to hope for DNA.’
‘But where?’ Chris asked.
‘There’s the cottage the women were kept in for a start,’ Clare said. ‘There were food containers, an ashtray too. We should be able to get some DNA from those; and your cousin’s wife, Kim.’
‘What about her?’
‘Smart cookie. She pocketed a blindfold they’d used on her. Might get something off that.’
Chris smiled. ‘She’s great, Kim. Sparky, you know?’
‘Yeah, I got that. So, let’s move on to Maggie’s murder. Any thoughts?’
‘Hammer might help,’ Max said.
Clare sighed. ‘I’m not getting my hopes up. There could have been DNA. Prints, even. But it’s been lying in that field since Monday. Maybe longer.’
There was a tap on the door and Sara looked in. ‘Boss, that van.’
‘The undertaker’s?’
She came in and stood, her back to the wall. ‘Yeah. Seems the keys have gone from the box in the office.’
‘Have they checked with all the employees?’ Clare said. ‘Could be one of them’s taken it and forgotten to check it out.’
