On A Dark Sea (The DCI Dani Bevan Detective Novels Book 2) (15 page)

Chapter Thirty

‘T
he Storm’ turned out to be a group of music students from Strathclyde University. They’d released a couple of albums which had sold pretty well online. Andy was meeting their lead guitarist after his lectures finished for lunch.

              Calder hung around the cafeteria waiting for the lad to turn up. Having never been a student, he found these places disconcerting. Very few of the kids he knew growing up had gone to university. When he joined the police at sixteen, his contemporaries thought he’d moved into a new social class, leaving his friends and family behind. Most of his pals now were fellow officers on the force, or couples he’d met through Carol.

              Callum Forbes picked Calder out easily. He was the oldest and smartest dressed person in the place. Forbes’ hair was gelled up in a spike above his head and he wore the most incredibly tight jeans the detective had ever seen. It made the lad’s legs look like a pair of sticks. Andy couldn’t understand why he would want to appear in public that way.

              ‘DC Calder, how may I help you?’ Forbes put out a hand.

              From his polished manners, Andy immediately wondered if he was a public school type. ‘I’m investigating the disappearance of Maisie Riddell.’

              Callum looked puzzled. ‘I don’t think I can assist you with that.’

              ‘You’ve heard about the case then?’

              ‘Yeah, I’ve seen it on the news. It’s really sad.’

              ‘Did you know that Maisie was a big fan of your band?’

              ‘No, I didn’t. But the Storm’s got a lot of fans online. My Twitter account has over 300,000 followers.’

              Andy felt his heart sink. ‘Okay, well thanks for your time.’ Calder rummaged in his pocket for the photograph, just in case it jogged a memory. ‘This is Maisie. She was fourteen years old and had a great singing voice. Apparently, she’d performed a few gigs around the city, but we’ve not been able to find out where.’

              Callum looked at the image closely. ‘I’d not seen a picture of her before. She’s kind of familiar.’

              Andy waited patiently, trying not to get his hopes up.

              ‘She’s called Maisie, did you say?’

              The detective nodded.

              ‘It’s just that we used to get these letters, about a year ago, from a girl who liked our stuff. I wouldn’t normally remember, but it’s actually really unusual to receive something handwritten these days. And we weren’t that big back then, either. What she wrote was kind of personal, too. So it stuck in my mind. I’ve still got them. One time, she attached a photo. I think this might have been her, but she signed off using a different name.’

              ‘Can I see them, just to check?’

              ‘Sure. Let me grab a sandwich and I’ll take you up to my room.’

*

Andy returned to Pitt Street with the letters inside a plastic evidence bag. He’d wanted to examine them more closely back at the station. Forbes was right. The girl had enclosed a photograph with her first letter. It was taken on holiday, clearly a while back, but Andy was fairly sure it was Maisie.

              Calder spread out the correspondence carefully on his desk. Pulling on a pair of latex gloves, he began to read through them all, in date order. After scanning a couple of sheets, he searched in his drawer for a pad. Unusually for him, he began to take notes of what he was reading.  In these letters, Maisie was referring to herself as Kenna Adams, but the details she was giving of her life very closely matched those of the missing girl.

              Kenna was describing how her parents had split up when she was nine years old, before her father moved abroad. Calder could sense from the raw emotions she poured onto these pages that the girl had been harbouring a great deal of resentment about the divorce. The letters were clearly her way of sharing these thoughts and feelings with someone else, even if the recipient never replied. Kenna discussed the way she’d become disconnected from her mother, who spent a lot of time at work and refused to speak with her daughter about her dad.

              A gush of anguish spilled out into the documents when Kenna described her father’s announcement that he was planning to marry again. His fiancé was young and from the place her dad now lived. It meant he would probably start a new family and never come back to Scotland. Worse than this, Kenna did not take to her father’s new wife. The girl would spend her Christmases with them and she found the woman prickly and unkind.

              Andy wasn’t sure whether these particular letters were based on fact or fiction. He wondered if Maisie was using the character of Kenna to create a fantasy world based around her own life. Calder wanted to discuss this with Dani, to discover her take on it. She would be more able to interpret the nuances of the text than he was.

              It was getting late, but Andy was sure his DCI would still be up. She’d dropped in to see Phil earlier in the day and had surely gone straight home to her flat afterwards. He carefully placed the bundle of letters back in its plastic wrapping and left the building.

              Calder went via Scotstounhill on his way home. He parked up at the kerb and lifted the package from the passenger seat. Dani’s hallway was in darkness. Andy wondered if she might already be in bed and was about to turn away when he spotted a silhouette at the end of the corridor. He put his face up to the glass and peered more closely. The kitchen at the back of the property was only dimly lit, but the figures of Dieter Karlsen and his boss were clearly outlined against the fading light spilling through the patio door. Their bodies were entwined, lips firmly joined and hands tugging desperately at the other’s clothes, as if locked in some strange, tribal dance.

              Andy whipped his head back, the sight causing him to physically recoil. He strode quickly to where the car was parked, tossed the letters inside and threw himself into the driving seat. Not quite knowing why he was so angry, the detective stabbed the key into the ignition and sped away.

Chapter Thirty One

C
alder sent a text to his boss first thing in the morning. It said he’d be in a bit later than usual. He was going to follow up on a lead he’d got from his interview with the band member from the Storm. This wasn’t a lie, exactly. Andy had decided to show Carol the letters. It was unorthodox, but he needed someone else’s opinion. For the first time in their professional relationship, he didn’t want it to be Dani’s.

              Andy made a pot of coffee for his wife, withdrawing to squat on the rug in the lounge, playing with Amy whilst she read them through. An hour later, he returned to the kitchen, with the toddler perched happily on his hip. Carol had removed her glasses and was looking thoughtful.

              ‘What did you make of Maisie’s step-mother when you were in Norway?’ She asked.

              ‘We only met Kristin Riddell the one time. I must admit I didn’t warm to her, but she seemed devoted to the little boy.’

              ‘If this Kenna character does represent Maisie, then she really disliked her step-mother.’

              ‘But do you think the things she writes about her are true?’

              Carol sighed. ‘It’s difficult to say. Girls of that age do have their fantasies. Kristin symbolised everything that had gone wrong in her life. You couldn’t blame Maisie for hating her. At the same time, she makes some fairly specific accusations in these letters. Can you investigate them to see if they’re true?’

              ‘I’d have to work with the detectives in Stavanger again. I’m not sure that’s such a good idea,’ Andy said, making a face.

              ‘Isn’t Detective Karlsen already here, staying at Dani’s place. Why don’t you run it by him?’

              Andy grunted. ‘The guy’s on leave. He won’t be able to do any more than me.’

              ‘What about the other one, the lady. You said she was a better detective anyway.’

              He laid a hand on his wife’s back, allowing Amy to slide into her mother’s arms. ‘Actually, that’s a good idea. I don’t really trust Karlsen. It’s probably best he’s not there.’ Andy leant down and gave them both a kiss. ‘Thanks Carol, you’ve been a great help.’

*

Back at his workstation, Andy checked that Dani wasn’t around. According to the replacement DS, she was in a meeting with Nicholson, a man he harboured a barely disguised hatred for. Striding over with confidence, he shouldered the flimsy door and entered Dani’s office. Her desk diary was lying open and a thick address book sat next to it. Andy lifted the leather-bound tome casually and flicked through to the numbers he needed. Not wishing to push his luck, he took a snapshot of the page on his phone and returned to his own desk.

              Magda Hustad answered after a couple of rings, she sounded stressed.

              ‘Detective Hustad? It’s Andy Calder here, from Strathclyde Police.’

              ‘Oh, hello Andy, how can I help, has there been a development?’

              ‘That’s what I’m trying to find out. It seems Maisie may have made some allegations against her step-mother. I’ve outlined the key facts in an e-mail. It should be in your inbox now. I wondered if you could do a few checks on Kristin Riddell for me?’

              ‘Sure, not a problem.’ The woman sighed. ‘I’ll get on to it as quickly as I can, but we’re very busy here.’

              ‘I understand, Magda.’

              There was a brief pause before she continued, ‘I know this may sound odd, but have you seen Detective Karlsen at all?’

              ‘Why do you ask?’ Andy tried to keep his tone neutral.

              ‘He is currently on leave and I can’t get hold of him on his mobile. I desperately need to pass on a message.’

              ‘I could ask DCI Bevan, she may have heard from him,’ he replied carefully. ‘What’s the message?’

              ‘The Chief of Police has sent a man in to audit our unsolved cases. He is shaking everything up here at the Bureau. If you tell Dieter that, he will know to call me.’

              ‘Okay, if we have any contact with Karlsen, I’ll pass that on.’

              ‘Look, I’ve got to go.’

              ‘No bother, thanks for your help.’ Andy replaced the phone. Now he was really intrigued. Why was Magda so flustered about having their previous cases re-examined? He wondered if she and Dieter always played things by the book. Magda had seemed pretty straight to him. Karlsen he wasn’t so sure about. Andy looked up as Dani strode past him, returning to her office. She took off her jacket and beckoned him over. Andy felt uncomfortable as he entered the room. He wasn’t used to keeping things from his boss.

              ‘When I was in with the DCS, I received a call. There’s been a murder down on London Road. The squad who were called to the scene think the dead man is Clive Anton. The SIO thought we might be interested.’

              ‘Let’s get over there straight away, Ma’am.’

*

The street outside Anton’s boarded up nightclub had been sealed off with tape. A couple of uniforms were guarding the door which led up to Anton’s flat.

              Dani flashed her ID. ‘Is the body up there?’ She enquired.

              The PC shook his head. ‘It’s actually in a shed out the back, but you can only reach it through the flat.’

              The wind was whistling through Clive Anton’s apartment. Much to Dani’s relief, this had blown away the sickly sweet smell that had permeated the place when she was last here. The techies had set down trays along the corridor leading to the kitchen. The back door was wide open and revealed a set of exterior steps which took them down into the back yard. This was where all the action was going on.

              Dani introduced herself and Andy to the SIO, DI Jilly Reid. ‘What have we got?’ She asked.

              ‘His throat’s been cut. Quite a professional job, I’d say. Anton used this old shed as a kind of workshop. He re-upholstered furniture, if you can believe it. His stuff is actually rather good.’

              ‘Can I have a look?’ Dani asked warily.

              ‘Of course.’ Jilly stood back and allowed her colleagues to enter.

              Dani and Andy glanced at each other, not needing to put into words what they were both thinking. Clive Anton had been placed on one of his own, throne-like chairs. His neck was a bloody gash. Behind him, blood was sprayed up the walls like a piece of modern art. Anton’s hands lay in his lap, palms facing upwards.

              Andy glanced at his boss. ‘Bloody hell,’ he muttered darkly.

Chapter Thirty Two

I
t was only lunchtime, but Bevan and Calder stopped for a drink in one of the pubs further along London Road.

              ‘Is that what the crime scene looked like in this case Bill Hutchison has been harping on about – the one up in Stonehaven?’ Andy asked, taking a long sip of beer.

              ‘I only saw the photos, but it was very similar, yes.’ Dani had allowed herself a small white wine.

              ‘It’s just like the murder of Mackie Shaw. There’s certainly no denying it.’

              ‘The details of the murder on Garansay were reported in the press after the trial of Richard Erskine, weren’t they? This could be someone trying to replicate the same conditions.’

              ‘It could be, but then why was Erskine watching Bill and Joy’s house? Much as I think the old guy’s a bit flaky, he might actually be onto something.’

              Dani spent a few moments admiring the Victorian fittings around the bar, her mind running through all the things Bill had been trying to tell her for the past few weeks. She turned to address Andy directly. ‘Terence Sinclair was part of a prostitution racket, right? They were exploiting underage girls from Eastern Europe. What if Richard Erskine found out about this gang and decided to execute Sinclair? Perhaps he sees himself as the protector of these vulnerable women, because of what his grandmother had gone through?’

              ‘So how does Clive Anton fit into it?’

              ‘When we were at Anton’s flat before, there was this smell of perfume everywhere. It was so overpowering it made me want to be sick. Phil said that his daughter Sorcha wears the same brand. Apparently, it’s what all her friends are using.’

              ‘So Anton had young girls there, at his flat.’

              ‘The place is above the club, just like Sinclair’s operation was based in the floor above the Fisherman’s Bar. Maybe Erskine’s been watching these places and working out what they’re up to.’

              ‘Erskine’s clever. He never leaves forensic traces.’ Andy polished off his half pint.

              ‘The SIOs in these cases haven’t even got Erskine in the frame. At the moment, he’s free to come and go as he chooses. We’ve got no idea who he’s earmarked as his next victim.’

              ‘But these scumbags he’s bumping off – can we really describe them as
victims
?’

              ‘Oh yes. Erskine’s made them into victims. These people needed to be tried in a court of law and their guilt proven. How does Erskine really know he’s targeting the right people? He might make a mistake and kill an innocent man.’

              ‘He hasn’t done that so far, Ma’am. I suppose Erskine thinks we haven’t managed all that well at tracking these bastards down ourselves. Let’s face it, he wouldn’t be far wrong.’

              Dani took another sip of wine. There wasn’t much she could say to argue with that. It was perfectly true.

*

Joy had prepared a special meal, laying the table formally for their guest. Bill and Sam were enjoying a pre-dinner drink in the lounge. When the food was ready, Joy called the men in to eat.

              ‘This is really lovely, Mrs Hutchison. I can’t recall the last time I ate a home cooked meal, probably when I visited my mom for Thanksgiving.’

              ‘I just hope you enjoy what I’ve made.’ Joy gestured for them to take a seat and hurried into the kitchen to gather the plates. When she returned, Bill paused to say Grace, before his wife leant over the table and dished up. ‘I think you’ve both been so brave. If you hadn’t got those girls out of that terrible place I swear I’d never have felt at peace ever again.’              ‘Well, it was the police that raided the joint,’ Sam explained.

              ‘Come on,’ Joy added sternly, ‘if it hadn’t been for the two of you highlighting what was going on there, those people would still be in operation. Any news on Freya?’

              ‘She’s still at the hostel. DI Lyons told me she will receive counselling before they consider sending her back to Lithuania,’ said Bill.

              ‘I should think so too, after what the poor girl’s been through. It’s awful to imagine such things going on in this country. I hope you informed the detective that Freya is welcome to stay here with us. We have plenty of room. I would take good care of her.’

              ‘Yes, I did. But the idea was too unorthodox for the Detective Inspector to contemplate.’

              Joy tutted disapprovingly.

              ‘To be fair to the guy, it isn’t how these situations work. The authorities would have to vet you for weeks beforehand, if they were to let the girl become your responsibility. It’s enough that you got her out of that place, Bill.’

              ‘But it upsets me to picture all the other, similar establishments that still exist out there.’ Bill sipped his wine and looked wistful.

              Sam put down his knife and fork. ‘You can’t afford to think that way. As a cop, I see terrible stuff on a daily basis and you try your best not to brood on it. We work hard and do what we can to help. It’s not possible to save everyone who is in difficult circumstances.’

              Bill nodded. ‘Yes, but it’s hard not to feel for them, just the same.’

              Sam carried on eating, he wasn’t sure it was possible to stop Bill Hutchison from carrying the burdens of the world on his shoulders. It was probably a better idea to distract him instead. ‘Did you speak with Dani in the end?’

              ‘DI Lyons said he would call her. I haven’t had the opportunity yet.’ Bill caught the American’s eye. ‘You know, I’ve been worried about the DCI recently, she hasn’t been herself. I really think you should contact her. I sense she needs guidance.’

              ‘I’ve left plenty of messages.’ Sam sighed. ‘She’s not got back to me.’

              ‘But Dani still doesn’t know that you’re in the country?’

              Sam shook his head.

              ‘I don’t understand why the two of you aren’t together right now. When you love someone, that’s where you need to be, isn’t it?’