Breakfast was a morose affair. Clare sat chasing muesli around the bowl, while Tom who had sensibly slept in the spare room chattered away in a vain attempt to lighten her mood.
Her gaze fell on the remains of the bottle of red from the night before. ‘Pour that down the sink. I don’t want to see it again.’
Tom raised an eyebrow. It hadn’t been cheap. ‘I’ll take it with me and have the rest tonight. Too good to waste.’
‘Whatever.’
‘Would you like me to come with you this morning? Play the legal card?’
‘Nope.’
‘Clare…’
She glared at him, her eyes flashing. ‘If you hadn’t badgered me – yes, Tom – badgered me to have that glass of wine, I wouldn’t be facing a disciplinary meeting this morning.’ She had the bit between her teeth now. ‘You know something? Maybe my judgement was impaired. Maybe he’s right. I shouldn’t have been drinking on duty. End of.’
‘Clare, you had a couple of mouthfuls, no more.’ Tom sat back in his chair. ‘You didn’t even finish the glass. You certainly wouldn’t have been over the limit.’
‘A drink’s a drink. And I’m supposed to be hunting a murderer. I shouldn’t have done it. I should have said no. But because I didn’t, because I chose to drink the wine you bought, a man died. I had alcohol in my system when I was on duty and a man is dead.’
‘But that wasn’t your fault, surely? This – this mad driver you’re hunting – can you honestly say if you hadn’t had a mouthful of wine that you’d have stopped him before he killed again? Honestly?’
‘We’ll never know, Tom, will we?’
Tom took her hand in his. ‘I’m sorry.’
She withdrew her hand. ‘I’m a big girl, now. My decision, my mistake.’
He gave what he hoped was a sympathetic smile but she didn’t return it.
‘I’d better get to work. Get it over with. You heading back to Glasgow?’
He nodded. ‘I don’t have any clients this morning but I need to do a few things before a meeting this afternoon.’
‘Thanks for dinner.’
‘My pleasure. Oh, and I’ll take those bags to the charity shop.’
‘No need.’
‘I’d like to. If it helps you, it’s easy enough.’
‘Okay.’
‘Any particular shop?’
‘The homeless one’s closest. Market Street.’
‘I’ll find it. And, if you do decide to look at houses here and you’d like a second opinion…’
‘Yeah, maybe.’ She gave him a wan smile. ‘Sorry. I’m being a cow. I just don’t need a sanctimonious DCI on top of a triple murder investigation.’
Tom took her hand again and squeezed it. This time she didn’t withdraw her hand but squeezed his back. She thought about hugging him. But she didn’t.
DCI Gibson would be in full official mode, she knew that, but as Clare drove to the station, she believed she was ready for him. She had spent a fitful night, rising at four in the morning, and had made notes of her actions over the past few days. Other than the ill-advised glass of wine, she doubted the DCI had much of a case against her. But she’d find out soon enough.
She pulled into the car park and sat, thinking for a minute. After the activity of the night before, the car park was quiet. An idea had come into her head and she weighed it up. Then, she took out her mobile phone and dialled.
Elaine Carter was delighted to hear from her. ‘Clare, I’m so glad you’ve decided to call. You know I’m always here for any issues at all, particularly when we consider what you have been through over the past year.’
She closed her eyes and let Elaine drone on. When she finally paused for breath, Clare seized her chance. ‘I could do with your advice, actually.’
‘It’s what I’m here for, Clare.’ Her tone was syrupy sweet. ‘How can I help? I’m guessing the Lord Advocate’s office has been in touch about the prosecution.’
That again! Would they never shut up about it? She bit back the irritation she felt. ‘No, it’s not that. I’ve put that to the back of my mind for now. It’s a possible discipline issue, actually.’
‘Oh. Perhaps you’d better tell me.’
Clare summarised the investigation then came to the events of the previous evening.
Elaine listened. ‘You were entirely alone at the garage?’
‘Yes.’
‘Why didn’t you have another officer with you?’
‘I wanted my DS to remain at the base so he could apprise me of any developments. And I didn’t know the garage was there. It’s impossible to see it from the road.’
‘So, you went, let’s say, on a hunch?’
‘I had a feeling the answer might lie along that road, yes.’
‘And, had you not investigated, the garage, and indeed the car, may have remained undiscovered?’
‘Someone else could have found it.’
‘But they didn’t, Clare. And you did. Perhaps you could go through your actions at the garage for me. In detail, please.’
Clare explained that she was keen to establish whether the car was actually in the garage without letting the driver know it had been discovered. ‘There was a stout padlock, much newer than the garage. I didn’t want to break in. If it was the murder vehicle – and I’m confident now that it was – I needed to link it to the driver. Otherwise there would be no chance of a conviction.’
‘And what happened when the driver approached?’
‘I concealed myself while he undid the padlock. And then, I realised he had a gun.’
‘Did he see you?’
‘Not at that point. I had no backup so I stayed quiet. And then,’ Clare hesitated, recalling the moment when her phone rang out, ‘my mobile phone started to ring.’
‘Oh, Clare!’
‘I know. So, I ran. I weaved through the trees and I kept running; and when I thought I was safe, I stopped and called my sergeant.’
The syrupy sweet tone had gone. ‘Were you hurt, Clare?’
‘No, not at all. Bit of a shock, I’ll admit, but I wasn’t hurt.’
‘You should have seen a doctor.’
‘Honestly, Elaine, I was absolutely fine. My sergeant drove me back to the station.’
‘And was the driver apprehended?’
‘No. The car had gone by the time we reached the garage. Unfortunately, we believe the driver claimed another victim late last night.’
‘And the suspect?’
‘We think he’s a farm worker. Name of Fergus Bain. We had his cottage under observation and a motorcycle stationed up the road to intercept him if he left the cottage, but it seems he managed to slip out the back and make his way to the garage. I think he then drove off in the other direction.’
‘Should you have had someone stationed in the other direction?’
Clare weighed this up. ‘All the attacks up to last night had taken place in or around St Andrews so it made sense to monitor the road in that direction. And there was no way of knowing the car was concealed on that stretch of road.
‘So, to summarise, you had the suspect under observation, a motorcyclist a short distance away ready to tail him, and no reason to suspect the car was concealed close by?’
‘That’s about it.’
‘It sounds to me, Clare, as if you acted quite properly and that your actions alone have resulted in the murder vehicle being discovered, albeit not apprehended. The only possible criticism I can see is that you went out on investigations, alone, thus placing yourself in real danger. Inadvisable but hardly a discipline issue.’
This was going well. She took a deep breath. ‘There’s something else, Elaine.’
‘Yes?’
‘I went home for a break, early evening. Most of the team did. We all needed to eat, recharge our batteries.’
‘You had been on duty since…’
‘Eight in the morning.’
‘So, ten hours without a break?’
‘Yes, I suppose so. Anyway, a friend cooked me a meal and poured me a small glass of wine, some of which I drank.’
‘I see. How much would you say you drank?’
‘I had two mouthfuls.’
‘You are aware—’
‘Yes, Elaine. I know. Serious misconduct. I regret it absolutely and it was strictly a one-off.’
‘And I’m guessing you’re phoning me because this has come to the attention of your DCI?’
‘I’m afraid so. He gave me a round of the guns and sent me home. I’m facing a disciplinary meeting this morning.’
‘Did he take steps to assess how much alcohol was in your system?’
‘I asked to take a breathalyser test but he denied the request.’
‘So he has no evidence, other than what he believes he smelled?’
‘I did start to say I’d only had some of a small glass but he cut me off.’
‘And your DCI is…?’
‘DCI Gibson.’
‘DCI Alastair Gibson?’
‘Yes, that’s him. You know him?’
‘We have met, yes.’ There was a short silence, then Elaine spoke again. ‘Clare, I have to ask, are you a regular drinker?’
‘On days off, I might have a glass of wine or a beer. But if you’re asking if I’m drinking in order to cope with work and a possible private prosecution, then the answer is no.’
‘And, being truthful, is this a one-off or have you drunk on duty before?’
‘It’s absolutely a one-off. I was tired last night, a bit worried about the investigation, and I was persuaded by a friend to have a couple of mouthfuls of wine with my meal.’
‘Mm. Well, Clare, you know I can’t condone taking alcohol on duty but, given that your actions in relation to the ongoing investigation have been largely positive, I think your error of judgement should be overlooked. I’ll come up to see you and your DCI this morning. I’m in Kirkcaldy now, as it happens, so I’ll be with you in an hour or so. In the meantime, I’ll telephone your DCI and instruct him not to speak to you about this matter and that, in my view, the best thing for your personal welfare and for the investigation is that you carry on with your duties. Providing, of course, that there is no further drinking on duty.’
‘And he’ll listen to you?’
She could almost hear Elaine preening. ‘In matters of officer welfare, Clare, I outrank him every time. He has no choice but to follow my advice. Now, I’ll want to speak to you and your colleagues so don’t stray too far, please.’
Clare ended the call and, for once in her life, thanked God and all his angels for Elaine Carter who had seemed unexpectedly keen to back Clare up. She sat for a while longer in the car, mulling this over, then punched in another number.
‘Clare! Great to hear from you. How’s tricks?’
‘Good thanks, Jackie. Must catch up next time I’m back in Glasgow.’
‘I’ll hold you to it.’
‘Jackie, your ear’s closer to the ground than anyone I know…’
‘You after gossip?’
‘Information, really. I’ve just spoken to Elaine Carter.’
There was a groan from Jackie. ‘God. What have you done?’
‘Long story. I’ll tell you when I see you. But I’m having a bit of an issue with my DCI – partly my fault – and she seems surprisingly keen to weigh in on my side.’
‘That doesn’t sound like her. Who’s the DCI?’
‘Al Gibson.’
‘Ahh. Well now, there’s a story.’
‘Yeah?’
‘Oh yes. You know Elaine has a son in the force?’
‘DC down in Edinburgh, right?’
‘That’s him. Stuart. Nice lad and doing well. Should make DS soon. Anyway, when he first started his boss was Al Gibson. Al was a DI at that time. And, for some reason, he took against Stuart. The lad could do nothing right. Al was always careful not to bawl him out in front of anyone who mattered but he chipped away at his self-confidence.’
‘Surely, knowing who his mother was…’
‘Stuart wouldn’t take it to his mum. Precisely because she was his mum. But one of the others did. I don’t know if they ever found out who but Elaine put a spy in the camp and within a couple of weeks had enough to call Al in for a friendly chat.’
‘Sheesh. Bet he loved that.’
‘He did not! Poor Stuart thought it was the end of his career. But Al was forced to apologise to him in front of Elaine and the whole shift. That was the end of it. A few weeks after that Al asked to be transferred to another team. I don’t think their paths have crossed since.’
‘Bloody brilliant! Wish I’d been there.’
‘Oh, me too. Apparently, his face was a study. Anyway, if Elaine’s backing you against him, I’m not at all surprised. Make the most of it.’
‘I will. Listen, Jackie, I’d better go and show my face. Thanks again. Catch up soon, yeah?’
‘Sounds good.’
Clare waited in the car for a few more minutes to give Elaine time to phone the DCI, then she locked the car and went into the station. The noise of general chatter gradually subsided as the assembled cops eyed her warily.
‘Morning, boss,’ Chris said and she threw him a grateful look.
DCI Gibson emerged from Clare’s office, phone in hand. He stopped when he saw her. ‘So, you’ve called in the cavalry, Inspector?’
Clare smiled sweetly and, looking round the room, announced, ‘Briefing in five minutes.’
A few pairs of eyes strayed to the DCI. He seemed about to speak then changed his mind and went back into Clare’s office, slamming the door behind him.
They assembled in the incident room, a little puzzled at Clare’s still being in charge but no one dared ask what was going on.
‘For the avoidance of doubt,’ Clare began, ‘I remain in charge of this investigation until further notice. I expect a specialist vice team to appear tomorrow morning to deal with the activities in those photos and we’ll do a handover to them as soon as possible. We continue with the murder investigation. You may also be interviewed by Elaine Carter, the force welfare officer, who is coming up this morning. I won’t prejudge what she might say other than to urge you to be entirely truthful in responding to her questions.’ She smiled at them. ‘Okay?’
A few of the cops smiled and Clare pressed on.
‘Right then, we have a new murder to deal with, the possibility of another one very soon, and a suspect who has disappeared. So, let’s recap what we know. Any sightings of Fergus Bain yet?’
Heads shook.
‘I’ve put a couple of uniforms on the house round the clock,’ said Jim.
Clare nodded. ‘We may have to do a full search of the house but for now their priority should be keeping a low profile and watching out for him in case he comes back. Remember he’s armed now and he knows we’re after him. He gave our man the slip last night. So, they’ll need to keep their wits about them.’
Clare continued. ‘Now, the DCI has issued the usual statement about Fergus Bain – he’s wanted in connection with our enquiries, that sort of thing. So if we get any response, I want to know about it. Nothing so far, I take it?’
‘Sorry, Clare,’ Jim said. ‘Nothing.’
‘The car, then. We know it’s a Land Rover Defender, with the traditional green paint. Must be quite bashed around by now – it’s run over three victims and partly run over a fourth, colliding hard with a lamp post so there will be a dent in the front. Number plate is probably false, but does include the letters SJ on the top row and seven on the bottom. Who’s watching the garage, Jim?’
‘Traffic man with a motorbike. He’s pulled off the road, out of sight but he can see the garage.’
‘Right. When we’re done here I want every available officer out hunting Mr Bain and his Land Rover. Okay – last night’s victim, what do we know?’
Chris raised his hand. ‘Seventy-one-year-old professor, retired, lived alone. Neighbours say he was a quiet man, kept himself to himself, liked his books, that sort of thing.’
‘Cause of death?’
‘The usual. Multiple trauma consistent with a motor vehicle accident.’
‘No witnesses?’
‘Woman next door heard the car and went to the window but didn’t see anything. Her husband went out to check and found the professor.’
‘Dead? Or did he live long enough to tell them anything?’
‘Killed outright, unfortunately.’
‘Next of kin?’
‘Nothing so far.’
‘Okay, let’s have two of you suited up to go through his house. Look particularly for mobile phones, computers, tablets as well as any personal information that might help us find family members. We’ll need someone to ID the body. Neighbours, probably.’
Connor raised a hand. ‘Steve and I can do that, boss.’
‘Ideally, we want two neighbours to ID him, since they aren’t family. And can you take the photos of the unknown fourth man with you, please? The grey-haired one. Pound to a penny it’s him. Show them to the neighbours – discreetly, mind. Pathologist too. Maybe you could take photos over to the Path lab, Phil?’
‘On it, boss,’ Phil said.
She looked around. ‘We’re up against it here, guys. I think we all know by now that there could be a fifth murder very soon. The professor was found with one of those cards bearing the number two. The killer is counting down to his final victim. We have to get there first.’
‘What about Fergus Bain’s employers?’ asked Chris.
‘Good point. I think we’ll go over and speak to them. They might know where he’s hiding out. Right. That’s all. Keep your radios handy. You may need to come back to speak to Elaine. And I want you all to report in every hour. We must make progress before darkness.’
Connor, Steve and Phil left, photos in hand and Chris set about co-ordinating the search for Fergus and his vehicle. Jim was manning the desk and catching up on paperwork. It was quiet in the station and Clare sat down to sift through the evidence they had so far. She couldn’t afford any more mistakes. She was lost in thought when the door opened and Elaine walked in.
‘Clare.’ She came towards her, smiling broadly. ‘I’m very pleased to see you.’ She unwound a Hermes scarf from her neck and shrugged off her coat. ‘Now, where might I find DCI Gibson?’
Clare indicated the door to her office and moved towards it, but Elaine waved her back.
‘I’ll call you in when I’m ready.’ She swept into Clare’s office without knocking, closing the door behind her.
Ten minutes later the door opened and Elaine motioned to Clare to join them.
In the office, DCI Gibson’s expression was mulish.
‘Now, Clare,’ Elaine began, ‘DCI Gibson and I have discussed what happened yesterday and he has agreed there is no need to interview your colleagues. He accepts your actions were out of character and, providing you give your word there will be no further drinking on duty, he is prepared to let the matter rest.’
Clare glanced at the DCI and he nodded briefly.
‘In return, I have said that you and I will meet again for a chat, either within two weeks or once the current investigation is concluded, whichever is sooner. We do, after all, owe a duty of care to you.’
Clare had to hand it to Elaine. Like the Mounties, she always got her man. On balance, having to meet with Elaine to discuss her welfare, was a small price to pay for remaining in charge of the investigation and avoiding a formal disciplinary. She reckoned she’d now made an enemy for life of DCI Gibson but, again, it was probably worth it.
‘Thank you, Elaine and… thank you, sir.’
The DCI gave Clare a nod and she escaped, having promised to keep in touch with Elaine. She returned to scrutinising the evidence when Chris appeared.
Clare raised an eyebrow. ‘Search all sorted?’
‘Yeah. And I’ve just heard from Connor. He and Steve found the professor’s correspondence, neatly filed, including letters to his solicitor. I’m on my way round to see the solicitor now. Office is on South Street.’
‘Anything else of note at the cottage?’
‘Steve has a computer in the boot of his car. And the professor’s mobile phone. I’ll try to get someone to rush them down to Tech Support this afternoon.’
‘That’s priority, Chris. See if Phil can do it when he’s back from the Path lab.’
Clare’s phone rang. It was Gillian, one of the uniformed officers stationed at Fergus’s cottage.
‘Boss, there’s a secure cabinet upstairs at the cottage. It’s unlocked and empty. Looks like a gun cabinet.’
‘Okay, thanks Gillian. I was pretty sure he was armed but it’s good to know.’
Clare hung up then turned to her computer screen to look up a phone number which she then punched into her phone. With her hand over the phone, she said, ‘Hold on for a minute, Chris. I need to check something.’
When the call was answered she said, ‘Can you check for a shotgun holder, please? It’s DI Mackay at St Andrews.’
Chris raised an eyebrow.
‘Name please?’ the voice in Clare’s ear said.
‘Fergus Bain. Address is between St Andrews and Strathkinness. He’s a worker on – hold on a sec…’
She put her hand over her phone again. ‘Chris, what’s the name of the farm Fergus works at?’
‘Woodknowe Farm.’
‘Woodknowe Farm,’ Clare repeated into the phone.
‘Hold on please.’
While she waited Clare told Chris about the empty gun cabinet. ‘It more or less confirms my suspicions that it was Fergus at that garage last night.’
Chris looked doubtful. ‘I get that, Clare, but what about the attacks on Andy Robb and Nat Dryden? Fergus couldn’t have done them.’
‘He must have an accomplice.’
The voice in her ear interrupted their conversation.
‘Yes, I’m still here,’ Clare said. ‘Any luck?’
‘Fergus Bain,’ the voice began, ‘Number One, Woodknowe Cottages, Woodknowe Farm, St Andrews.’
‘That’s him,’ Clare said. ‘Is his licence current?’
There was a pause and then the voice spoke again. ‘Expires at the end of next year.’
‘And the gun?’
‘Shotgun. Remington 870.’
Despite the seriousness of her situation, Clare allowed herself a smile. She had been right about the gun. ‘Can you email me over a photo of Mr Bain please? And a copy of the licence?’
‘Of course, Inspector. Is it urgent or can you wait?’
‘Urgent, I’m afraid. He’s a murder suspect.’
‘In that case, I’ll email it to you now. Give me ten minutes.’
Clare hung up the call. ‘Change of plan, Chris. Get Phil to call in on the solicitor for you, then ask him to head down to Tech Support after that. You are I are going to Woodknowe Farm.’
She walked over to the desk where Jim’s head was still bent over a pile of papers.
‘Jim, can you alert all the cops out hunting Fergus that he is carrying a Remington 870 shotgun and should be treated as potentially dangerous? Update the DCI and make sure the message goes out to other stations too. At this stage, I’d say Fergus has nothing to lose.’