On A Dark Sea (The DCI Dani Bevan Detective Novels Book 2) (5 page)

Chapter Nine

D
ani gestured towards the sofa at the far end of her office and Andy took a seat.

              He pre-empted his boss by saying, ‘Sorry Ma’am. I shouldn’t have been so flippant.’

              ‘I don’t mind hearing alternative views Andy, you know that. It’s just a question of framing your objections in an appropriate way.’ Bevan perched on the edge of her desk. ‘But I understand it must be frustrating to be working alongside such a young and inexperienced officer as Alice yet being of the same rank.’

              Andy looked up with a start, surprised that his superior officer was being so frank. ‘Well, yes, actually it is. There’s no way Alex Ritchie could have murdered Maisie Riddell and then got rid of her body. He may, at a pinch, have the physical strength to do it, but he doesn’t have the personality traits. That’s purely my instinct, of course.’

              ‘Then I accept it’s probably right. We’ll take a look at his school records and that’s it, we can put the inquiry to bed.’

              ‘I’d just hate the press to get hold of the idea Alex is a suspect and then start vilifying the poor lad.’

              Dani nodded. ‘I’ll tell the team to keep our interest in Alex Ritchie very quiet. Any news on the petrol receipts from Fiona’s early morning jaunt on Wednesday?’

              ‘Alice has got a print-out from the bank. Fiona paid for fifty quid’s worth of fuel and a pint of milk. The transaction took place at 9.42am.’

              ‘Okay. Make sure it gets added to the timeline. That should be enough to clear the issue up.’

              There was a knock at the door. Dani stood and let Phil Boag into the room.

              ‘Sorry to interrupt, but there was something I wanted to mention out there and didn’t get a chance.’

              Dani raised her eyebrows quizzically.

              ‘Georgina told me last night that Maisie thought her mother might have a boyfriend. It was purely a suspicion she had, because of Fiona’s altered behaviour in recent weeks. Georgie didn’t mention it to Andy as it was only a speculation.’

              Dani dipped her head towards DC Calder. ‘Let’s go and have another word with Fiona Riddell.’

Charles Riddell was sitting at the kitchen table with a mug of coffee in front of him. His chin was sprinkled with several day’s worth of salt and pepper stubble. Dani immediately imagined he must be staying in the house with his ex-wife. She wondered if he was sleeping in the spare room. Fiona offered the detectives a drink.

              ‘Thank you, we’ll both have a coffee,’ Bevan responded warmly.

              Charles gazed up at them like a puppy dog, with a look of desperate expectation on his drawn face.

              ‘I’m sorry,’ Dani quickly added. ‘We’ve no news on Maisie’s whereabouts. We just needed to ask you a couple more questions.’

              The man slumped forward in a gesture of defeat.

              Fiona was dressed in a figure-hugging woollen jersey and dark knee-length skirt. She looked smart and well groomed.

              ‘We wondered if we might speak with you alone, Mrs Riddell,’ Dani continued.

              The woman hesitated, stirring milk into their cups. ‘Oh, of course. We could take our drinks into the lounge if you’d like?’

              Charles didn’t appear to notice them walk out.

              Fiona sat stiffly in the armchair by the window, leaving her face in partial shadow. ‘What’s all this about?’

              Andy took over. ‘Have you been seeing anyone in recent months, Mrs Riddell?’

              ‘Do I have to answer that question?’ Fiona glanced at Dani.

              ‘No, you aren’t under any obligation to answer our questions. But absolutely any piece of information may be crucial to us finding your daughter, even if it seems trivial or unimportant to you.’

              Fiona sighed. ‘I went on one of those speed-dating evenings a couple of months back. I met a man there called Gavin. He seemed nice so we went out to dinner in town a couple of times. We didn’t have much in common and we’ve not met up again. That’s it.’

              ‘Did Maisie meet this man?’

              ‘No, absolutely not.’

              ‘Can we have his full name and address please, so we can eliminate him from our inquiries?’

              ‘I’ve only got his cell number, not his address.’

              ‘That’s fine. We’ll be able to locate him from that.’

              Fiona got up and retrieved a Filofax from a bureau next to the sofa. ‘I don’t see what this has got to do with Maisie. Why are you concentrating so many of your questions on me?’

              For the first time, the woman looked really ruffled.

              ‘It may seem that way,’ Dani said. ‘But I can assure you we are examining a number of different lines of inquiry.’

              Fiona padded across the room and pushed the door closed. ‘I’ve been thinking,’ she said carefully, resting her weight on the arm of a chair. ‘Since Charles took that job at Barents Oil, he’s been involved in some bad publicity over in Norway.’

              ‘In what way?’ Calder asked.

              ‘Well, his company are at the forefront of the project to explore for oil in the Arctic Ocean, up near the Norwegian Archipelago. Greenpeace have been running a high profile campaign to have the exploration stopped. Charles has fronted a series of press conferences about it.’

              Dani sat forward in her seat. ‘Has your ex-husband ever received threats or been targeted by any groups over the issue?’

              ‘I think he’s mentioned getting letters and things. I didn’t take much notice to be honest. I thought it was something for Kristin to worry about, not me. But what if one of these organisations has kidnapped Maisie? Maybe it’s about time you started questioning Charles and his family, too.’

Charles Riddell tried his best to appear attentive. He listened impassively whilst Andy Calder laid out his ex-wife’s concerns.

              ‘I hadn’t for a moment considered it might be an issue. These environmentalist groups are usually pacifists. Do you think they could have taken Maisie?’

              ‘Have you ever received threatening messages?’

              Charles nodded. ‘Yes. We get them at work quite frequently. The IT department filters them out for us, so I never see them.’

              ‘Do these messages threaten members of your family?’

              ‘Not that I’ve ever seen. They are mostly highlighting the environmental damage caused by oil exploration – the destruction of the Arctic, that sort of thing. They aren’t usually personal, otherwise I would have mentioned it sooner. If Maisie had been kidnapped, wouldn’t we have received a demand of some kind by now? A pressure group would want to use the act for publicity, wouldn’t they?’

              Dani thought Charles was probably right and that this line of inquiry could prove to be a very costly diversion for her team. ‘They may be planning the best possible moment to play their hand. Now that we’ve been provided with this information, we will have to sift through all of the malicious correspondence you’ve received at Barents Oil. We’ll need the contact details of your IT department.’

              Charles stood up heavily. ‘I’ll get it for you right now.’

Chapter Ten

A
n antiquated train-set filled the Hutchisons’ spare room. Bill had spent the past couple of days perfecting the complex arrangement of tracks, points and tunnels, ready for his grandsons’ visit at the weekend. He polished a Hornby Flying Scotsman with his sleeve and placed the engine down by one of the stations. Bill stood back to survey his work.

              ‘It looks perfect.’ Joy poked her head around the door. ‘We’ll never get the boys out of there.’

              Her husband nodded with satisfaction.

              When Joy had returned to stripping the beds in the guest room, Bill went downstairs and located his notebook by the telephone. He glanced again through the scribblings he had made at Terence Sinclair’s property. From the research he had already done into the case online, Bill knew that Sinclair was 48 years old at the time of his death. He’d been married for ten years, but had divorced his wife five years ago. They’d had no children.

              Bill was convinced that Richard Erskine was to blame for Sinclair’s murder but he had yet to identify any kind of link between the two men. The way in which the boat-hand had been butchered and his body carefully placed fitted exactly with the circumstances of Mackie Shaw’s death on Garansay just over a year ago, for which he and Bevan were certain Erskine was responsible. Bill knew that Erskine was still residing in his house in Inverness, living off his teacher’s pension. Hutchison didn’t have the time or the resources to observe how the man spent his days, but he would certainly like to.
             

              One of the cards pinned to Sinclair’s cork board was for a bar in Aberdeen. He’d jotted down the number and now he lifted the receiver to give the establishment a call.

              ‘The Fisherman’s Bar, how may I help you?’ A woman’s voiced answered.

              ‘Oh, hello. Could you tell me what time you’re open today?’

              ‘We’re doing lunches until 3 then we’ll be closed ‘till 6.30pm. After that we’ll be serving until late. Did you want to book a table for food?’

              ‘Are you expecting to be busy?’

              ‘Not necessarily. But if you want to eat then you’d better come early. We’ve always got plenty of drinkers in after 8pm.’

              ‘I got your number from a friend of mine, Terry Sinclair. He recommended your place.’ Bill let the statement settle between them.

              ‘Are you the press?’ The woman asked tersely.

              ‘No, not at all. My name is Bill and I was a neighbour of Terry’s.’

              The woman sighed heavily. ‘I’m Liz. Terry used to come in here a lot. The regulars are pretty shaken up about his death. He was a harmless guy.’

              ‘Did Terry have any particularly close drinking pals? I’m trying to get hold of some folk to attend his funeral. To be honest, he didn’t have a great deal of friends here in Stonehaven.’

              Liz thought for a moment. ‘There’s a few. If you give me your e-mail address then I’ll send you their names. Better still, if you come in on a Friday night I’ll introduce you to them. That was the evening Terry was always in here.’

              ‘Thank you Liz. I will certainly do that.’

*

‘Gavin Calhoun is forty six years old. He divorced three years ago and has two teenage sons. I spoke with him this afternoon.’ Andy stepped into Dani’s office and pulled the door shut.

              ‘He confirms Fiona’s story. He said they met twice for dinner and on the second occasion, Fiona told him that she would call him the following week to arrange another date, but she never did. That was the last contact they had.’ Andy glanced at his notes. ‘It was on January 23
rd
. Gavin said he’d heard about Maisie’s disappearance on the news and considered sending Fiona a letter to say how sorry he was, but he hadn’t done it yet. He claims he never came into contact with Fiona’s daughter and she never met his sons. They didn’t even go to each other’s houses.’

              ‘Did you believe him?’

              ‘It’s hard to say for sure with just one phone call but I didn’t get the impression he was lying. He did add something interesting, though - as a sort of afterthought.’

              ‘Oh, aye?’ Dani leant forward.

              ‘It could simply have been hurt male pride, but he said he was genuinely surprised that Fiona didn’t get back in contact with him. Gavin felt they’d got on really well and there was a noticeable spark between them. He’d been deliberating calling her anyway, just to check everything was okay.’

              ‘Well, it seems as if Fiona Riddell hadn’t felt the same way.’

              ‘No. How is the investigation into the environmental campaign against Barents Oil going?’

              Dani let her eyes roll up towards the ceiling. ‘Poor Phil is trawling through a mountain of material. I can’t help thinking this is a total blind alley. If this case was a kidnapping we’d certainly have heard from the perpetrators by now.’

              ‘Is Fiona Riddell trying to send us on a wild goose chase?’

              Dani shrugged her shoulders. ‘It could seriously reduce our chances of tracking down her daughter if she has.’

              ‘You know, I’d really like to have a forensic team sweep through that house with a fine-toothed comb. Particularly to see if there’s been any recent activity in the garden.’ Andy looked at his boss expectantly.

              ‘If we take that action, we’ll have the national press swooping down on Fiona like feeding time at the zoo. We’d have to be bloody sure we thought she’d killed Maisie before we took that step. I don’t feel certain enough of it just yet.’

              Andy nodded. ‘Okay. It’s your call, Ma’am.’