Old bones lie, p.9
Old Bones Lie, page 9
Thursday
Chapter 11
‘You come across a DCI called Ben Ratcliffe?’ Clare asked, as she poured Benjy’s food into his bowl. The dog fell on it, eating noisily.
‘You have no authority over that dog,’ the DCI observed. ‘I always make him wait for his food.’
‘Yeah, I know. I’m good cop, you’re bad cop. Anyway, do you know him?’
‘Ben Ratcliffe? Not sure.’
She regarded him. ‘I thought you knew everyone.’
He shrugged. ‘There’s so many new folk. Why are you asking?’
‘Because I’ve been told to hand over the missing prisoner case to him. Email from the Super last night. I’ve to concentrate on the murder.’
‘Did you tell him you thought they were connected?’
‘Hah. It wasn’t that kind of email.’
‘Ah, I see.’
‘So you don’t know him?’
He rose and picked up his breakfast dishes. ‘That’s what I said.’
Clare watched him. He was loading the dishwasher, his back to her and she wondered if he was being completely honest. Did he have some history with Ben Ratcliffe? If there was something, he certainly wasn’t keen to share it. ‘I’d better get away,’ she said. ‘Early briefing and I want to be in before he arrives. Maybe I can persuade him there’s a connection.’
He turned from the dishwasher, closing the lid. ‘Do bear in mind there might not be.’
She didn’t reply but stooped to ruffle Benjy behind the ears. Then she forced a smile. ‘See you tonight.’
* * *
The car park was busy when Clare pulled in. She looked round for evidence that Ben Ratcliffe had arrived but there were too many new cars to work out which might be his.
‘He might not even be here yet,’ she said to herself, checking her watch. She climbed out of the car and saw Chris emerge from the station door. He noticed her and ambled over.
‘You look tired,’ she said.
He yawned. ‘I’d forgotten how long a night is.’
‘Any luck?’
‘Not last night. But I went back and spoke to the farmer whose tractor was nicked last week. Sounds like it might have been stolen to order. He had three tractors all in the same shed. But this one had been retrofitted with an autonomous kit.’
‘Which is?’
‘Basically it turns an ordinary tractor into a self-driving one.’
‘Crikey. How much does that cost?’
‘Farmer says thirty grand, on top of the cost of the tractor. And he’d only had it a month. His insurers are not happy.’
‘I’m not surprised. I presume you’ve checked cameras around the farm?’
‘Yeah. But the farmer reckons they’ll have stuck to the back roads. Probably rented shed space somewhere. They’ll store it until the fuss has died down then move it on.’
‘You need to check anyone who rents shed space then. Maybe speak to transport companies too – the kind that hire out low loaders.’
Chris rolled his eyes. ‘I have done a bit of detective work before, you know.’
‘Just checking.’ She gave him a smile and made to leave.
‘You’ll keep me updated?’ he said. ‘About Alan.’
‘I will, Chris. When I can. Now get yourself home to bed.’ She stood and watched him walk across to his car as though the weight of the world was on his shoulders, and her heart went out to him. She could only hope the officers and their wives would turn up soon. Lost in thought, she crossed the car park and went in the front door. Her eye was immediately caught by a tall man standing with his back to the public enquiry counter. He had an air of authority and she realised this must be DCI Ben Ratcliffe. As she approached he gave her a nod.
‘DI Mackay?’
Clare smiled and held out her hand. ‘DCI Ratcliffe?’
‘Ben’s fine.’
‘Clare.’ She saw several pairs of eyes were watching the exchange. ‘Let’s grab a coffee. We can chat in my office.’
Sara was in the kitchen when Clare and Ben entered. Clare introduced them and Sara volunteered to make the coffees.
‘You must come here more often,’ Clare joked. ‘I can’t remember the last time anyone made me a coffee.’ That wasn’t quite true, of course. Since his arrival, Max had been offering to make coffees at every opportunity. But she felt faintly nervous of this man and found herself chattering on, perhaps to avoid an awkward silence. He seemed pleasant enough but there was an intensity about his gaze that made her suspect he missed nothing. His suit was expensive, too, the cloth fine, the cut tailored. No, Clare decided. Ben Ratcliffe would not miss a thing.
She kept up a string of small talk until they were in her office. ‘I suppose you’ll want to use my desk,’ she said.
He looked surprised. ‘Why would I do that?’
It was Clare’s turn to look surprised. ‘DCI’s privilege? Every time I’ve had one base himself here they’ve used my office.’
He raised an eyebrow. ‘Pretty rude.’ He nodded at his laptop bag. ‘All I need is a network point and a decent desk. If there’s a room I can use, so much the better.’
‘That we can do.’
Ben’s phone began to ring and he fished it out of his jacket pocket. He sighed and swiped to take the call. ‘Sophie?’
Clare busied herself, switching on her computer and pretending to look for something in her drawer.
‘There is literally nothing I can do about that. I’m at work. You’ll just have to—’
There was a tap on the door. Ben was still on the phone so Clare opened it to find Jim waiting.
‘Didn’t like to disturb you,’ he said, but Clare waved this away.
‘The Jardines,’ he went on. ‘They want to open the shop. Mr Jardine says he’s losing too much money keeping it shut.’
‘I can understand that,’ Clare said. ‘Can we spare an officer to sit outside the shop? I do want to keep someone on the house.’
‘Leave it with me. I’m sure we can borrow someone from another station.’
Clare thanked him and opened her office door wide enough to see Ben had finished his call.
‘Sorry about that,’ he said. ‘You got any kids?’
‘No.’
‘Take my advice: don’t!’
She laughed. ‘I’m sure it’s worth it.’
He shrugged. ‘Yeah, it is. But sometimes… don’t ask me what I’m meant to do about a fourteen-year-old who’s left her PE kit at home.’
‘At my school they made us do it in our pants.’
He shook his head. ‘I’m not sure there’s a suitable reply to that.’
‘Probably not. So, shall I bring you up to speed?’
Ben Ratcliffe listened while Clare explained the two cases.
‘I’m convinced there’s a link,’ she said. ‘It’s too much of a coincidence, Devine escaping then the woman who testified against him killed the same day.’
‘They may be linked but, if you assume that, you might miss things. Either way, we’ve been told how to manage this so let’s get on with it. I’ll deal with the prison issue. You stick to the murder.’
Despite his initial friendliness Clare detected an air of authority in that last statement. Most DCIs, with a couple of exceptions, managed to convey the sense that they were a team of equals, working towards a common goal. But it looked like Ben Ratcliffe was the other kind. Ah well. She rose from her chair. ‘I’ll speak to Jim, the desk sergeant. He’ll sort you out a temporary office. Then maybe we could do the briefing together?’
* * *
News of Ben’s arrival had spread round the station and the hum died down as they entered the incident room. Standing a little way off from Clare, he cut a striking figure. He wasn’t directly in her eyeline but she couldn’t help being aware of his presence. She made an effort to gather her thoughts, then looked round the room.
‘Morning everyone. First of all, let me introduce DCI Ben Ratcliffe. Ben is taking over the investigation into Paul Devine and the two missing couples, and I’ll concentrate on finding Maggie White’s killer.’ She paused to let this sink in, then went on. ‘Obviously we have a connection between Paul and Maggie so it makes sense to have joint briefings, for now, at least. But the investigations will be led separately.’ She glanced at Ben. ‘If information relevant to both cases does come to light it will of course be shared.’
Ben gave a brief nod and Clare went on. ‘Okay, anything come in overnight?’
Max raised his hand. ‘Anthony Devine went straight home from work and didn’t leave.’
Ben said, ‘I’ll need to speak to the surveillance teams,’ and Max indicated he would arrange this.
‘A package was put through Anthony Devine’s letterbox yesterday morning,’ Clare said. ‘The caller didn’t ring or knock. We spoke to Devine later that day and he claims it was a friend returning a borrowed DVD. But he couldn’t tell us the name of the friend. Claimed he and his friends lend each other DVDs all the time. Frankly, I doubt it. He has a caution for possession of Class C so it’s possible the package was either drugs or money.’
‘Has his house been searched?’ Ben asked.
Clare shook her head. ‘At present we don’t have evidence connecting him to Paul’s disappearance. I think we’d struggle to get a warrant.’
Ben raised an eyebrow but said nothing and Clare went on. ‘What about Paul Devine’s known associates?’
Max raised his hand again. ‘Nothing suspicious.’
‘Bank and phone records?’ Ben asked.
‘Nothing to indicate they’re assisting Devine,’ Clare said. ‘But we’re monitoring them.’
She looked round the room. ‘Prison officers and wives – where are we with that?’
Nita raised a hand. ‘No ANPR sightings of their cars but I’m planning to look further into their movements on the days before they went missing. Start from when they were last seen, at work, maybe.’
‘Good thinking, Nita.’ She scanned the room. ‘If you and—’
Ben cut across her. ‘My team will take that.’ He nodded at Nita. ‘You can leave it with us.’ He turned back to Clare. ‘We’ll handle the search of the officers’ houses as well.’
Clare was conscious that the eyes of the room were on her and she forced her lips into a smile. ‘Of course,’ she said, acknowledging this. ‘Thanks for flagging it up, Nita. Was there anything else on the two couples?’
Heads shook and Clare went on. ‘Right, let’s move on to the murder. Who was chasing up Maggie White’s mother?’
Jim raised a hand. ‘I had a call from the Garda this morning. They’re pretty sure she’s travelling in Galway but nothing yet.’
‘Thanks, Jim. Now, we know Maggie died from repeated blows to the head, probably from a club hammer, or similar. SOCO haven’t found a likely weapon so those of you out on enquiries bear that in mind. They did, however, find a small piece of plastic they believe came from a walking pole – the kind hillwalkers use. And there’s a partial footprint and traces of mud in Maggie’s bedroom which we think came from someone other than Maggie. Her bedroom drawers were untidy, too, which doesn’t fit with the rest of the house. It could be an intruder was searching for something and it’s possible that person also killed Maggie.’
‘Any idea what they’d be looking for?’ Bill asked.
‘It might be money,’ Clare said. ‘SOCO found a stash of notes hidden in the shed. Who would have known Maggie had hidden money? Where did she get it and why was she hiding it? Why wasn’t she keeping it in the bank?’
‘Avoiding tax?’ Gillian suggested.
‘More likely proceeds of crime,’ Robbie said.
‘So, was Maggie White involved in something?’ Clare went on. ‘Drugs – or some other racket? Let’s look more closely into her.’
‘Could there be a link between Maggie’s money and Anthony Devine’s mysterious package?’ Sara said.
Clare cast a glance at Ben. ‘It’s possible. Perhaps Maggie and the Devine brothers have some other connection. Something we’ve not uncovered. If DCI Ratcliffe agrees, let’s dig into their pasts. See if they knew each other before the robbery.’
Ben nodded again and Clare caught Janey’s eye. ‘I’d like you and Bill to take that please?’
Robbie raised his hand. ‘What about the Jardines?’
‘For anyone who wasn’t here yesterday,’ Clare said, ‘Finlay Jardine is the jeweller whose shop Paul Devine robbed. Maggie White, our murder victim, worked for him. We’ve had a cop on the Jardines’ house since Maggie’s body was found and we’ll have someone on the shop today.’ She turned back to Robbie. ‘We’ll keep a watch on them for the next twenty-four hours and review it after that.’ She scanned the room. ‘Anything else?’
There were murmurs of No, boss, and she smiled round at them. ‘Okay, folks, I think that’s it, unless?’ She looked across at Ben, but he shook his head.
As the officers drifted off he waited for Clare. ‘You said you might have a room I can use.’
Clare led him to a spare interview room. ‘Is there anything else you need?’
‘No, I’ll be fine, thanks. I presume it’s all up on the network?’
‘It is. So, what are your thoughts?’
He didn’t answer this directly. ‘I’ll just get myself sorted out and make a start.’
‘You’ll be needing some officers.’
‘I’ll let you know.’ He indicated the door. ‘Mustn’t keep you.’
Clare left him to it, closing the door behind her. She walked back to her office, unable to shake off the feeling there was something she wasn’t being told.
Chapter 12
Clare found Max in a corner of the incident room, poring over the prison officers’ bank records.
‘I’d forgotten I asked you to look at these,’ she said sitting down beside him. ‘Strictly speaking we should hand them over to Ben.’
‘Yeah, I know. But I started it yesterday so thought I might as well finish. Then I can let him know if there’s anything. Only…’
‘Yes?’
‘There’s this.’
Clare pulled the bank statement over to see what he meant. It was Alan and Kim Carter’s account.
‘There’s a few small transactions in the days before the van disappeared. But this one caught my eye. See the date?’
She squinted at it. ‘Last Saturday.’
‘Yes. Six thirty in the evening. A card payment of thirty-four pounds to Jasmine Palace.’
‘I know it,’ Clare said. ‘Chinese takeaway. Pretty good. It’s down one of the lanes off South Street.’
‘Quite a lot, isn’t it?’ Max said. ‘Two people wouldn’t eat thirty-odd pounds worth of takeaway food, would they?’
‘See what you mean. They must have had company.’
‘Could it be significant?’
Clare glanced towards the interview room Ben was using. The door was firmly shut. She should take this to him, really. But she could always tell him later. Say she’d forgotten about it. She scraped back her chair. ‘Come on,’ she said. ‘Let’s pay them a visit.’
Jasmine Palace was closed but to the side of the door was a buzzer for the flat above.
‘Chen,’ Clare read. ‘Might be the owners.’ She pressed the buzzer and after a minute they heard a voice.
‘Yes?’
Clare introduced herself and Max and asked if they could speak to the owner of the takeaway.
‘Just a moment.’
She waited for the buzzer but instead the outer door was opened by a woman in her forties. She introduced herself as Mei Chen and said she and her husband owned the takeaway.
‘We’d like to ask about an order on Saturday night.’
Mei laughed. ‘We must have had forty orders on Saturday night. I’m not sure I’d remember.’
‘The name was Carter,’ Clare said, ‘and it was for thirty-four pounds.’
‘Alan Carter?’
‘Yes, that’s him. Do you remember?’
Mei nodded. ‘He’s a regular. Orders every couple of weeks. Always a big order. He tips, as well.’
‘Can you remember the time?’
She shook her head. ‘Sorry. I don’t do the deliveries. That’s my son.’
‘It was a home delivery?’
‘Yes. We deliver free in the St Andrews area.’
‘Might your son remember?’
‘He would. But he’s at school just now.’
‘At school?’ Clare couldn’t keep the surprise out of her voice.
‘He’s eighteen. Passed his test. He only helps out at the weekends. He’ll be home about four if you want to speak to him.’
‘Actually,’ Clare said, ‘we could do with speaking to him now. Is he at school in the town?’
‘Albany High,’ Mei said. ‘But I’m not sure he’d like—’
Clare smiled. ‘Don’t worry. We’ll be discreet.’
* * *
Albany High lay on the outskirts of town on a flat sprawling site. They were buzzed in by the receptionist who asked them to wait while they located Simon Chen. A few minutes later a young man with a school tie loosely knotted came walking along the corridor. He knocked at the reception window and the receptionist indicated Clare and Max.
Clare rose and went to greet him. ‘Hello Simon. I’m Detective Inspector Clare Mackay and this is Detective Sergeant Max Evans.’
Simon looked from one to the other. ‘What’s this about?’
