Farrell rose from his knees and genuflected on the way out of St Margaret’s. He had been up since 5 a.m., having already fitted in a run to Glencaple. Racing against the clock he’d wolfed down a hearty breakfast, finishing the requisite one hour before receiving Holy Communion. Catholics had to be nothing if not organized. He waved at his friend, Father Jim Murphy, on the way out, the poor man already knee-deep in the Catholic faithful.
Twenty minutes later, he walked into the morning briefing, nodding at DI Moore and DCI Lind as he joined them at the front. They had decided to have joint briefings on all three major cases, since Kirkcudbright seemed to be the common denominator. Whether the cases were linked remained to be seen but, given that Kirkcudbright was hardly the crime capital of Europe, Farrell wasn’t yet ready to buy the coincidence theory.
The room was packed out as they had also drafted in additional uniforms from outlying stations in the region to help with the investigations.
DI Moore held up her hand for silence, and the chatter immediately died down.
‘As most of you will now be aware, this station has become involved in the investigation of an art forgery ring which originated in Glasgow and has now moved onto our patch. The forger is likely based in Kirkcudbright. Therefore, we need to do what we can to smoke him or her out, without alarming them to the extent that they shut up shop and move elsewhere. Recovering the forged painting was a stroke of luck, due to the tractor carrying it being involved in an RTA. Unfortunately, the driver had legged it well before we got to the scene. I doubt very much that he was the brains behind the operation. More likely some local rent-a-yob who was looking to make a quick few bob by smuggling the painting to the drop site. Given the mode of transport, I suggest that we start by looking at any local farm workers with convictions for dishonesty. The tractor has been impounded. The plates were false, so until it’s reported stolen, we can’t trace the owner. DC Thomson, can I leave that with you?’
‘Yes, ma’am.’
‘Oh, and have you got hold of the footage from Broughton House yet?’
‘Not yet. I’ve had to go through the National Trust. I’m hoping to hear back from them later today.’
‘Don’t let them give you the runaround. We need that footage ASAP.’
With that, DI Moore stepped down and DCI Lind took her place.
‘As you all know, human remains were discovered on the Dundrennan Firing Range yesterday.’
‘Any idea how long they’d been out there yet, sir?’ asked DS Stirling.
‘All I can tell you at the moment is that it’s been more than a year. There was no flesh left on the bones.’
He hesitated.
‘There’s a possibility that it might be a young Irish girl, Ailish Kerrigan, who went missing from the area on 15th of June 2009 and hasn’t been seen or heard from since. Her family have been informed of the find. The remains have been recovered and sent to the mortuary. I believe Roland Bartle-White is arranging for a well-respected forensic pathologist from Glasgow to come down and assist with identification and try to determine cause of death. It’s likely that once the remains have been identified this will be a murder investigation.’
‘I remember that case,’ said DS Stirling. ‘She was tangled up with a bunch of artists in Kirkcudbright. What was their name again? Sounded like something from Star Trek?’
‘The Collective,’ replied Lind.
‘That’s it,’ said Stirling.
‘You might want to familiarize yourself with the case again, in case we get a positive ID on those bones.’
Stirling nodded assent.
Lind stepped to the side to make way for Farrell.
‘Moving now to the suspicious death of Monro Stevenson,’ he said, ‘The Collective also has ties to the deceased.’
There were a few murmurings. Farrell held up his hand for silence.
‘Don’t get too excited. Monro was an artist, and the missing girl was involved with an artist who lived there. There may be no more to it than that; it’s important not to jump to conclusions.’
‘Wasn’t another of the shortlisted artists from that lot as well?’ asked DS Byers.
‘Yes,’ said Farrell. ‘In fact you can come along and help out with the initial interviews, today, if you’re free? However, I absolutely do not want to put the wind up them. The emphasis must be on routine enquiries.’
Byers nodded enthusiastically, making Farrell feel guilty. He was aware that he didn’t give Byers as many opportunities to get involved, due to his personal dislike of the man. Overcompensating he gave him a warm smile, which caused a flicker of surprise, followed by suspicion, to shoot across Byers’s face.
‘The preliminary results of the post-mortem on Monro Stevenson have come in. Cause of death is by gunshot wound. No surprises there. Hence the gunshot residue on his right hand. The time of death is estimated to be around 5.45 p.m. We’re waiting on toxicology results as it appears he may have been visited by someone in the hour prior to his death. There were two rim marks on the table and only one glass. Furthermore, the lights were off and the curtains drawn. It would be unusual for someone to shoot themselves completely in the dark. We are looking into the possibility that he may have been drugged and the suicide staged.’
He could see a few sceptical looks. Maybe some of them thought he was losing the plot.
‘DC Thomson, how’s that handwriting report coming along? I need to know if the signature on the suicide note was written by the deceased or a third party.’
‘The expert, David Williams, has said he’ll be able to start work on it tomorrow, sir.’
‘PC Green?’
‘Here, sir,’ said a voice from the back.
‘How are the family holding up?’
‘The press has been proving a bit of a nuisance. Since the piece went out on Border News, a few stray reporters have been turning up at the door, calling repeatedly, the usual nonsense. They’ve also had hate mail from a few religious fanatics banging on about how the deceased will be rotting in Hell, that kind of thing.’
‘Swing by and speak to the civilian press officer, Andy Moran. Get the Stevensons to refer all callers to him, meantime.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Have you spoken to the girlfriend, Nancy Quinn?’
‘No, sir, I haven’t managed to catch her in at all,’ PC Green replied.
‘Don’t you think that’s odd? Can you track down her current whereabouts and arrange for her to come in and help us with our enquiries?’
‘Will, do, sir.’
‘Right, everyone, snap to it. We’ve got three critical investigations here that I don’t want to see get away from us. It’s only a few months since the press were last picking over our bones. I don’t want to give them reason to do so again.’