Old bones lie, p.20
Old Bones Lie, page 20
Sara shook her head. ‘No. They’ve all been asked about it. All except Anthony Devine, of course.’
‘He must have taken it,’ Chris said. ‘Has to be him.’
Max nodded. ‘I agree.’
‘Hold on,’ Clare said. ‘He was at Brunton last night, at that cemetery. That was, what, two or three in the morning? How’s he got to St Andrews to take a van?’
‘Any number of ways,’ Chris said. ‘He could have nicked a bike, thumbed a lift, walked to a bus stop and caught a bus… Remember, it’s Paul’s face that’s been splashed all over the papers. No one would look twice at Anthony. He leaves Paul hiding – gets over to St Andrews. Probably had his office keys with him when he was lifted. If he did still have them he’d be in and out in minutes; and, if not, he’d know how to get in. Where there was a window – that sort of thing. Don’t forget who his brother is.’
‘It’s possible,’ Clare said. She broke off. Something was worrying away at the back of her mind. Something about a van. And then she remembered. ‘Chris, do you have the number for Motray Farm? Not the farmer’s mobile. The farmhouse.’
He reached into his pocket. ‘Give me a minute.’ He tapped at his phone and held it out.
Clare took the phone and clicked to call the number. It rang out and she was about to give up when it was answered. The voice sounded young, female.
‘Tansy?’ she said, hoping she’d guessed correctly.
‘Yeah – who is this?’
Clare introduced herself. ‘I just need to ask one more thing, if you can remember? You spoke about a couple of vehicles driving slowly past the farm on Monday afternoon.’
‘Yeah I remember. The Megane and that van.’
‘Can you recall anything about the van?’
‘Not much. It wasn’t huge. But bigger than the ones that are like a car.’
‘A Transit, maybe?’ Clare suggested.
‘I dunno. I remember the colour, though. It was green. Dark green.’
Clare muted the phone for a moment. ‘Sara, get onto the funeral home. I want a photo of that van. Then see if you can get some images of different vans, green if possible. I want to see if Tansy picks this one out.’
Chapter 26
Clare and Chris were on their way again within half an hour, armed with a bank of photos. They were met this time by a woman in a Barbour jacket and Hunter wellies. She was about forty, with thick blonde hair tied back, her cheeks flushed in the cool afternoon air.
‘Elspeth McGovern,’ she said, holding out a hand. ‘Eric’s wife.’
She led them into the kitchen. The sun was low in the sky now, the large room warm and welcoming. A delicious smell wound its way round Clare’s heart and she realised she’d missed lunch.
‘Something smells good,’ she said.
‘Chicken casserole.’ Elspeth shrugged off her coat and stepped out of her boots. ‘I’ll fetch Tansy.’
Minutes later Tansy appeared and Clare explained she would like her to try and identify the van she’d seen driving slowly past on Monday.
Elspeth frowned. ‘That’s the day the GPS was nicked. Tansy, why didn’t you say something earlier?’
Tansy rolled her eyes. ‘Dunno. Didn’t think it was important.’
Elspeth raised an eyebrow but said nothing further. Clare spread out photos of six green vans, all different in style. It took Tansy seconds to pick out the funeral director’s van.
‘That’s the one,’ she said. ‘I’m sure of it.’
‘Can you recall the time at all?’ Clare asked. ‘Even roughly?’
‘Maybe four; or a bit later.’
‘And did you see it again? Going back down for instance?’
She shook her head. ‘No, sorry. I think mum called me to help with tea.’ She looked from Clare to Chris. ‘Does that help?’
Clare scooped up the photos. ‘It does, Tansy. Thank you.’
As they left, they saw Eric McGovern climbing down from a tractor.
‘You back about that damned graffiti?’ he shouted.
‘Not this time,’ Clare called. ‘But I’ll check with the station.’
Back in the car, Chris said, ‘The green van – I’m not sure where it gets us.’
She held up a finger. ‘Hold on.’ She took out her phone and swiped until she found the number for the mobile she’d given Alan Carter. He answered after a few rings, his voice sleepy.
‘Sorry, just having a nap. Catching up, you know?’
‘Of course. But I need to ask you something.’
‘Yeah?’
‘The funeral on Monday. Was it well attended?’
‘Nah. Not really. Just Paul and his brother, and the undertaker’s lot.’
‘Did you notice any cars?’
‘What, like the hearse?’
‘Well, yes. But any others?’
He was quiet for a moment, as though thinking. Then he said, ‘We pulled in next to an old Nissan. Micra, I think. And there was something white beside that. Didn’t notice the make.’
‘Any vans?’
‘Like a workman’s van?’
‘Any kind of van.’
‘There was, now you come to mention it.’
‘Can you recall anything about it?’
‘Pretty average van, I’d say. In good nick. Didn’t notice the reg, though. Think it was green.’
Clare ended the call. Ignoring Chris drumming his fingers on the side of the car, she dialled the number for Hardman and Son, Anthony Devine’s employer. The receptionist wasn’t keen to give out details of Anthony’s work pattern, but when Clare said she was concerned for his safety she relented.
‘So, Monday,’ the receptionist said. ‘He clocked on at eight but he took a few hours leave. Think it was a funeral. Not one of ours, though.’
‘Time?’
‘He left here about eleven. Mr Keys said not to hurry back, as it was a funeral, you know? Sometimes people find it hard to go back to work afterwards.’
‘And did he?’ Clare asked. ‘Hurry back, I mean?’
There was a silence then she spoke again. ‘Looks like he didn’t clock back in. He must have taken the rest of the day. It’s gone through as a half-day holiday. Mind you, I think he did come back briefly, about six o’clock.’
‘But not to work?’
‘No. He was only here a minute.’
‘Do you know why?’
‘Probably to return the van keys. He’d taken one of our vans down to the funeral, you see. I think his car was playing up.’
‘Which van was it?’
‘The dark green one. It’s a Volkswagen. I can get the registration if you like.’
Clare ended the call, her mind racing. She needed to talk this through with Chris but she had to be careful not to mention Gavin’s role in Paul’s escape.
‘You want to catch me up?’ Chris said, eventually.
She turned to him. ‘Chris, there’s stuff I’ve been told not to share. With anyone, including you. Especially you.’
His jaw tightened. ‘Stuff about Alan?’
‘Not exactly. But, if I do tell you, you absolutely cannot tell anyone. Not even Sara. If you did, I’d probably lose my job. So, agreed?’
He was looking at her, as if trying to try and work out what was going on.
‘Agreed?’ she repeated.
He nodded. ‘Agreed. So?’
‘Anthony Devine knew about the plan to spring Paul from custody. After the funeral.’
Chris stared. ‘He knew? What about Paul?’
She shook her head. ‘From what I can gather it was a surprise for Paul.’
‘So how did—’
‘Anthony got wind an escape was planned. Don’t ask me how, or who told him; and I don’t know how they sold it to him. Maybe the jewels were mentioned. Either way it doesn’t matter. But he knew. And there’s more.’
Chris sat back and rubbed his chin. ‘Go on.’
‘The funeral was a put-up job. Nobody died.’
‘Who the hell did they bury?’
‘House bricks. Enough for the weight of a man. Wrapped up so they didn’t shift.’
‘And Anthony Devine arranged this?’
‘Looks that way. It was a ploy to get Paul out of prison.’
‘So he could kill Maggie?’
Clare frowned. ‘No. I don’t think so.’ She paused then said, ‘I don’t think Paul Devine did kill Maggie.’
‘Wait – what?’
She shook her head. ‘I started out thinking he was our man but I’m pretty sure now he’s not the killer.’
He frowned. ‘So, if Paul didn’t kill Maggie, and he didn’t know he was going to be sprung, why the hell is he out?’
‘It looks like the gang organised Paul’s escape so he could lead them to the jewels. But he must have held out on them.’
‘So they grabbed Anthony?’
Clare nodded. ‘I think so.’
‘That means Paul wouldn’t have been free to kill Maggie?’
‘Nope. He went from one set of captors to another; and, unless the whole damn lot of them turned up at Maggie’s cottage and killed her, I don’t think he’s our man.’
Chris was silent for a moment. ‘Where does the green van fit in? Are you thinking—’
‘Anthony. I think he’s our killer.’
‘Anthony? Why would he kill Maggie? And why now?’ Chris shook his head. ‘Sorry, Clare. I don’t get it.’
‘Revenge, Chris. Revenge for putting his brother away.’
‘What? After all this time? Plus, he’d know Paul would be our chief suspect now he’s out. Killing Maggie might actually make things worse for him.’
‘Depends. If he managed to get Paul away from the gang and they dug up the jewels they could be out of the country before we caught up with them.’
Chris considered this. ‘He’d have to work fast. Once the prison raised the alarm he’d know we’d check on Maggie. Maybe even station a cop at her cottage.’
Clare didn’t reply.
‘Oh God,’ Chris said. ‘We didn’t, though, did we?’
‘No,’ she said, her voice small. ‘All the worry over the prison officers going missing – I overlooked the basics.’ She met Chris’s gaze. ‘I probably cost that woman her life.’
‘No, I won’t have it,’ Chris said. ‘If it’s anyone’s fault, it’s mine. I was so shocked Alan was involved. I made such a fuss; and anyway, there was nothing to suggest she was in danger. No threats or intimidation during the trial.’
She shrugged. ‘Either way, it’s a bad miss, and one I’ll have to account for.’ She sighed ‘Let’s get back to Anthony.’
Chris put a hand on her arm. ‘I’ll back you all the way,’ he said, ‘if it comes to it.’
She smiled. ‘Thanks, Chris. But it was my op. My mistake. So, Anthony?’
He watched her for a moment then carried on. ‘You think he went straight to Maggie’s after the funeral?’
‘I think so. Only he doesn’t realise Tansy’s off school, sitting at her window, clocking any cars that go past.’
‘Hold on, though.’ Chris frowned. ‘Tansy said she saw the van about four. The funeral would have been over by one.’
‘I dunno,’ Clare said. ‘Maybe Maggie was out somewhere. Maybe he’d something else to do first. He could have been up and down that road when Tansy wasn’t looking. Or she could have been wrong about the time. But it makes more sense for Anthony to have done it than Paul. He had the van and all afternoon to wait for her.’
‘But, if he kills Maggie around four,’ Chris said, ‘why didn’t he carry on to Brunton? He had the van. Could have kept it till morning. Hang about till after midnight then start digging?’
‘Dunno. Digging’s hard work. Graves are deep. Maybe he needed Paul’s help.’
Chris sat weighing this. ‘So he goes back to St Andrews. Waits to hear from Paul.’
‘But the gang grab him before Paul can get away,’ Clare finished.
‘You could be right.’ He shook his head. ‘I dunno, Clare. So, what now?’
‘Now,’ Clare said, ‘we wait to see if Raymond can get any DNA from the hammer.’
‘We don’t have Anthony’s DNA on file. Do we?’
‘Nope. But I’m going to ask Ben for that warrant after all. I’ll find his DNA in that house if it’s the last thing I do.’
Chapter 27
Ben requested the warrant to search Anthony Devine’s house. ‘I’ve gone for phone and bank records too and asked for it to be rushed through,’ he said, ‘but don’t get your hopes up.’
Clare smiled her thanks. ‘What about the gang?’
He glanced at his watch. ‘Just about to start the interviews.’
‘Will you question them about the Elzinga raid?’
‘Not at this stage,’ he said. ‘The Met retrieved some forensic evidence at the time. If there’s a match they may want to be involved. Meantime, these lads aren’t going anywhere.’
‘I’d like to sit in. If you don’t mind,’ she added.
‘That’s fine. But you leave the questioning to me, okay?’
Ten minutes later Clare and Ben entered the interview room and came face-to-face with the man she believed to be one of Kim and Debbie’s abductors. He was stockily built, aged about forty with thick brown hair and sideburns that reminded Clare of Noel Gallagher. He sat slumped in his chair, arms folded, and barely reacted when they introduced themselves. A younger man Clare recognised as one of the duty solicitors sat beside him, a notepad and fountain pen on the desk. She nodded to the solicitor and started the recording.
Ben introduced himself and Clare, and the man spoke only to confirm his name as Alex Rogerson. The solicitor then said his client would exercise his right to silence.
‘That’s a pity,’ Ben said. ‘You’ll be out of here far quicker if you answer our questions.’
There was no response to this, so Ben went on. ‘You were apprehended on Friday night at the Christieson cemetery at Brunton in north-east Fife. Can you tell me why you were there?’
The man muttered, ‘No comment,’ and Ben carried on.
‘One of the graves was partly excavated. Can you explain this please?’
Again there was no response.
‘We have you at the graveside,’ Ben said, ‘clearly engaged in its excavation.’
‘Violation of sepulchres,’ Clare put in. ‘Carries a maximum life sentence.’
The solicitor and Ben both looked at Clare, but she continued staring at Alex. He met her eye.
‘Like you’d get life for that.’
Clare shrugged. ‘Depends on the judge. You get one who’s just buried his mother.’ She watched him, waiting to see if he would respond, but he lapsed back into silence.
‘Where were you last Saturday?’ Ben went on.
No response.
‘Monday?’
Again, no response. It was only when Ben mentioned they’d recovered a handgun from the cemetery that Alex showed a spark of interest.
‘Nothing to do with me.’
‘The gun has gone to our forensic lab,’ Ben said. ‘They’ll test it for DNA and fingerprints.’
There was the hint of a smirk on Alex’s face and Clare remembered Kim stating the gunman had worn gloves. He knows we won’t get anything off the gun, she thought.
‘We have your clothes as well,’ Ben said. ‘And you know the interesting thing about guns? It’s the tiny traces of residue. If that gun had been fired in the past, there might still be traces on the gun itself. And that stuff – it’s so fine. Gets everywhere. Clothes, fingernails – even if it wasn’t you who fired it.’
Alex inclined his head but he said nothing.
Ben carried on asking questions, Alex staring at the table in front of him. In the end he gave up and said Alex would be charged with abduction. ‘You’ll be up in court on Monday and I’d expect you to be remanded in custody.’
He made no response to this and the interview was terminated.
The second member of the gang, Colin Pirie, was no more forthcoming and he too was soon charged and on his way back to custody.
The third man was younger than Alex and Colin. He gave his name as Ross Pettigrew and, unlike the other two, he looked alarmed by his surroundings. Again the solicitor present stated Ross would be answering no comment to all questions. But when Ben mentioned the likely penalties for abduction the colour drained from his face. Seeing this, Ben softened his tone.
‘Obviously if you are able to help us identify your co-conspirators that would be taken into account by the sentencing judge. We can also make sure you wouldn’t be sent to the same prison as the others.’
‘A few years off your sentence can make the world of difference,’ Clare added.
The solicitor put a hand on Ross’s arm. ‘Perhaps we should have a chat in private.’
Ross looked at the solicitor for a moment then shook his head. ‘Sorry,’ he mumbled. ‘No comment to all of it.’
They emerged from the interview room half an hour later.
‘Reckon we can make any of it stick?’ Clare said as they headed to the kitchen to make drinks.
‘Hopefully. That house where the women were kept might throw up something. There should be DNA on those takeaway containers.’
‘And we have the scarf, remember,’ Clare said. ‘The one Kim had over her eyes.’ She picked up the kettle and went to the sink to fill it.
‘That violation thing.’
‘Violation of sepulchres?’ She plugged the kettle in and switched it on to boil.
‘Yes, that. How do you come to have something like that on the tip of your tongue? I was racking my brains trying to think what the offence would be.’
‘Used to live with a solicitor,’ she said. ‘Helped him study for his exams.’
‘You’re not with him now, though?’ he asked.
‘No, he’s married.’
‘Didn’t think so. You and Al Gibson.’
She turned, surprised. ‘You’re very well informed.’
He shrugged. ‘I keep up. Nice guy,’ he added.
‘You know him?’
‘We served together for six months. Long time ago now.’ He smiled. ‘Thought he’d have mentioned it.’
* * *
