Scotch Mist (24 page)

Tom grinned. ‘While we're all reading enormous significance into events, you never fail to offer a down-to-earth explanation that makes perfect sense. Trouble is, that premise opens up a completely new can of worms.'

‘Put it aside until you've opened the other cans and found the worms don't provide the right answers.' She lifted the cafetière. ‘Got time for another?'

His reply was reduced to a shake of the head as his mobile rang and he stood, ready to say truthfully that he was on his way.

‘Where are you?' asked Max.

‘At home, about to leave. How did it go with the Regional Commander?'

‘Sticky. I can't prove I wasn't on base, but thanks for calling him in on it.'

‘Regs demand it, but we're all available to get whatever info is needed to let you off the hook.'

‘Even Piercey won't manage to do that. The penalty of deliberately isolating myself. Tom, I've been ordered to stay here pro tem, but I need to go through the witness statements concerning Eva McTavish's behaviour at the Guy Fawkes do. Will you get one of the team to email them to me? I'm sure we overlooked something odd the first time round.'

Some of Tom's goodwill evaporated. Surely he was not still agitating about that suicide when he had this charge hanging over him. ‘Do I attend the meeting with the GC?'

‘Our boss is going to get it postponed. Concentrate all efforts on questioning the whereabouts on Tuesday and Friday evenings of everyone with mechanical or engineering knowledge. We have to compile a list of likely suspects for the two incidents before that meeting.'

‘And before he strikes again.'

‘Primarily that. Keep me in the picture, especially on this Jenny Greene affair. We have to discover who took her, Tom. Why she should name me is worrying.'

‘She's only three and could just as easily have said she'd gone off with Father Christmas or Postman Pat,' Tom told him smartly, hearing a smothered snort of laughter from Nora. ‘I'm liaising with Sheila Kinross to fill her in on the connection you have with the mother to prove it was purely professional.'

He ended the call and shrugged on his topcoat as Nora came to him, saying, ‘I expect I'll see you when I see you. If you arrive in the early hours again don't spoil my erotic dream.'

‘I'll come to bed in a wet shirt. You won't need to dream.'

After the dreariness of last week's misty rain and fog this one had begun with sunshine that sparkled a heavy frost. As a result colours looked vibrant. Autumn leaves glowed red, gold and amber, newly-washed buses gleamed yellow, net curtains were as snow-white as the grass around apartment blocks, and wares in shop windows looked enticing enough to lure customers inside. The chilly sunshine even brightened people; rosy cheeks, keen eyes and rainbow scarves.

The weather cheered Tom despite the weight of the problems he faced. As he drove he told himself he was being as fanciful as Max in thinking this atmospheric clarity would herald fresh insight. It was certainly energizing. Arriving at Headquarters he found every member of the team primed for positive action on the Jenny Greene abduction. He had to divert their zeal with Max's instructions.

‘Have you any idea how many people that directive covers?' moaned Piercey. ‘We've been at it for three days and made no more than a dent in the list of possibles. As the bomb boys keep telling us, anyone can access the Internet and read instructions on how to blow something up.'

‘You should have learned by now that much of detective work is painstaking elimination that leaves genuine suspects.' Piercey scowled as Tom added, ‘The device that ignited the hedge at the car park was the work of someone with advanced specialist knowledge, which allows us to narrow the search.'

He addressed them all. ‘It's Monday, start of a week when everyone should be on base. No manoeuvres, no courses at other venues, no block leave for troops returned from war zones and the Christmas exodus is several weeks away. In short, you should be able to find personnel where they should be. Start with the Sappers.'

‘We've already quizzed them,' said Heather wearily.

‘Do it again. See if they tell the same story. You and Connie search their lockers. Look for magazines, pamphlets, any signs of interest in incendiary gadgets. Piercey, you and Beeny go back to Logistics and the bomb boys who say we overreacted about the IED. Find out if any of them have Scottish links or a grudge against the lads from north of the border. Search their lockers, too. You might fall foul of Captain Knott who returned from the NATO meeting yesterday. If you do, refer him to the Boss, who's eager to have a go at him regarding courtesy of info.'

‘He didn't go,' said Connie.

‘Who didn't go where?'

‘Captain Knott. To the NATO conference. Had gastroenteritis.'

Tom frowned. ‘Where'd you get that nugget of info?'

The healthy pink of her cheeks surprisingly deepened. ‘Sergeant Carr.'

Tom's eyes narrowed. ‘Why didn't you report that earlier?'

‘I only heard about it last night.'

It was unwelcome news. He thought she had more sense than to start socializing with a man concerned in an ongoing investigation. Heather was getting dewy-eyed over a blond German policeman which he was not happy about, either. Women! Throwing both of them a scathing look, he directed the remaining members of the team accordingly before heading for the Greenes' quarter in the hope of a word with Sheila Kinross before she questioned Jenny again.

They arrived outside the house at the same time, and he gave her a rundown of Max's movements in a tone of authority that suggested it could be verified.

‘Well, she could have been confused last night, but if she continues to name Captain Rydal as the person who lured her away we'll have to question him.'

‘But he's the last man to . . .'

‘Tom, he clearly features largely in Jenny's life and, if she insists she went off with him, we have to discover why. There might be deep undercurrents here.'

‘No.
No
!'

She gave him a significant look which he resented, then asked if he planned to wait in his car or if he'd like her to call his mobile at the end of her first session with the child.

‘We have to take things slowly. They frequently change their story as time passes because they grow scared, or because they think it's what we want them to say.'

Impatient with her, yet aware of the sensitivity with which such cases must be handled, Tom said, ‘I'll be in my office. Call me there when she decides she went off with Postman Pat.'

In fact, Tom had just remembered Max's request for witness statements to be emailed to him, and returned to Headquarters to do it himself. Until Max had been cleared of this charge Tom knew he could not fully concentrate on anything, but emailing would keep him occupied. Even so, as he began searching the files for the relevant documents he worried about the possibility of Jenny sticking to her story. This could not have happened at a worse time. Max could be suspended while the affair dragged on, his future in the hands of a fanciful three-year-old.

The statements of witnesses who saw Eva McTavish taking pills in the sports stadium had been taken by Connie and Heather, which reminded Tom of Connie's apparent fancy for one of the stick of dynamite and an alarm clock brigade. She was normally level-headed. What had possessed her to get involved with a possible suspect in a serious case like this one?

After making coffee Tom sat at his desk and began to read through each report before scanning it, looking for something odd that had been overlooked. His mood was not lightened by the repetitious descriptions of the woman swallowing pills and making calls on her mobile. He was heartily sick of the McTavish affair Max was still making such a big deal of.

With just two reports left to send, Tom made more coffee and raided the goodie tin for a chocolate bar as a treat for failing to see anything odd that had been overlooked first time around. Max was after a goose even wilder than most he chased. Munching a chocolate-covered biscuit, he speed read the next but last statement and was about to scan it when he realized it was there and had, indeed, been overlooked because they had all been concentrating on the McTavish woman. Bravo, Max, although it raised an unwelcome premise.

Reaching for his landline he punched in the number of the RMP post. The call was answered by Babs Turvey, who told him George Maddox had gone home suffering from the gastroenteritis that was spreading around the base with the usual speed of such bugs. Could she help?

‘Yes, Babs. Look at your duty rosters and tell me who was on patrol at the Sports Ground during the firework display last Tuesday.'

After a few moments she gave him two names, then asked, ‘You did mean before the explosion, didn't you? The rest of us were called out to deal with the resultant situation.'

‘Yes, that's fine. Thanks.'

He disconnected and sat for a while gazing at the names of two men he knew and thought well of. Then he checked their military careers on screen and discovered Meacher had transferred from REME. Mmm, electrical and mechanical engineers. Very significant. He reached again for the telephone to ask Babs Turvey for Meacher's mobile number, but it rang before he could call her.

‘Sergeant Major Black,' he announced with a touch of asperity at being prevented from pursuing this unwelcome lead.

‘Sheila Kinross, Tom. Are you free to come here?'

‘Developments?'

‘Something you should hear. How long will you be?'

‘Ten minutes max.'

Shrugging on his padded coat Tom walked out to the sunwashed chill, and drove around the perimeter road to reach the Greenes' house wondering what he was about to be told. Sheila was watching for him and let him in, leading him to the kitchen. From the main room came the sound of jolly music and a soothing voice talking about Paddington Bear. No irate mother, no sobbing child. Just normality. Or
apparent
normality. Someone had taken Jenny from here for eight hours yesterday, which was far from normal.

Confronting Sheila, Tom asked, ‘Is she still naming Max?'

The woman gave a wry smile. ‘Yes. In her own way. After half an hour of gentle discussion in which Jean and I dropped identifying clues about Captain Rydal, Jenny gave one of those exasperated looks kids do so well when adults get it wrong. She said, ‘Not
that
Max. The other one who's sometimes a lady.'

‘What?' asked Tom, bemused.

‘Sometimes wore a
kilt
.'

‘A Drumdorran?'

‘Exactly. Someone Jenny has no fear of because he's been to her house and Mummy was friends with him.' Sheila poured herself some coffee from a filter machine, then explained that she would be having another session with Jenny after lunch to get further details of what happened during those eight hours. ‘So far, the child's been telling with some delight how he made tunes by blowing into a shopping bag.'

The truth then hit Tom. ‘Bagpipes!'

‘You've got it! Jean told me that while Eva was living with her last week Jenny called her Auntie
Max
Tavish.'

This time it was a walkover. Drum Major Andrew Lennox was bypassed with ease when two Redcaps arrested Hector McTavish and brought him to 26 Section Headquarters shortly after Max arrived there. On receiving the call from Tom that filled him with relief and also a sense of anticipation that his curiosity about the death of Eva McTavish was about to be satisfied, Max had immediately contacted Keith Pinkney.

The Regional Commander confirmed that the meeting with Colonel Trelawney had been put on hold, and added that this development was strong enough to keep it there ad infinitum. Pinkney undertook to inform Major Carnegie of the arrest of one of his revered pipers. Max knew it would come as a blow, but he felt little sympathy for a commander who had allowed hostility to continue by withholding the truth of Eva's death.

Entering the interview room with Tom, Max saw that the man who, at their previous meeting, had been assured to the point of belligerence was, today, an abject figure with head bowed, hands clasping and unclasping with agitation. Max had seen a suspect full of guilt before, and here was another. Tom started the tape recorder and Max went through the preliminaries, then read out the charge.

He had hardly finished speaking when the Scot mumbled, ‘Before God, I meant the lassie no harm. I could'nae help it. The wanting was too strong.'

Exchanging a swift glance with Tom, Max asked, ‘You admit to taking Jenny Greene from the garden of her home to some other place where you kept her for eight hours?'

‘She was happy to be with me, laughing and dancing to my music. Such a sweet innocent lassie, she is. Laughing and dancing. It did'nae seem wrong.'

‘Where did the dancing take place?' demanded Tom.

‘Practice room four, where I always go to play the beloved auld airs.' He suddenly looked up, his eyes dark with shock. ‘They're all that's left to me now, for the Lord has surely forsaken this sinner.'

Irritated by the religious drama, Max said, ‘Didn't it occur to you that Jean Greene, the child's mother, would be frightened and worried over Jenny's disappearance?'

McTavish stared as if unable to understand the question, then whispered, ‘She knows I'd not harm her, and the wanting was too strong.'

‘Wanting to do what?' demanded the father of three young girls.

The dark gaze swivelled to fix on Tom. ‘We were to have a bairn way back, but Eva went out on the ice against ma wish and fell. She denied me.
Denied me
,' he repeated. ‘A McTavish. A man of pride could'nae have the fruits of his seed. Father saw it as reaping as I'd sown. And so it was. I turned to the Lord and repented my ways, seeking peace with my music. But she would'nae have it.'