Farrell took his place at the front of the small lecture room, nodding a greeting to Lind and Moore. Such was the scope of the investigations now they had had to move the last briefing of the day here. As it was, every seat was filled and the clamour of voices and rising heat made Farrell undo the top button beneath his tie. The various investigations were growing arms and legs, but they were now stretched to breaking point, with officers drafted in from tiny police stations all around the region to assist with the legwork. The Super appeared in the backlit doorway and paused before briskly walking down to the stage with a jaw set like granite. The civilian press officer, Andy Moran, sat in the front row, with his notepad open, oblivious to the jostling going on around him.
The Super stepped on to the stage and held up his hand for silence, which was immediately forthcoming.
‘As you all know, there appears to be something of a hornet’s nest in Kirkcudbright. There’s the murder of the artist Monro Stevenson, headed up by DI Farrell, the murder of Ailish Kerrigan, led by DCI Lind, and DI Moore’s looking into the operation of a forgery ring. To what extent these investigations are connected is not yet known but it seems likely that there is at least some overlap.’
‘How many of you hail from Kirkcudbright or have grannies, cousins or friends who live there?’
A sizeable number of hands were raised.
‘Excellent, I want you all to mine those connections for information and report back to one of the three investigative heads. I want anything relating to The Collective, from when it was first set up to the present date, and everyone who has been associated with it. I also want any and all information in relation to Monro Stevenson, Ailish Kerrigan and their known associates. If anyone has some dodgy relatives who drink in The Smuggler’s or swim about in the shallows of petty crime, work out how you can extract information from them that might feed into our investigation.
‘At this stage of the investigation, we’re looking to subtly utilize our connections so that, hopefully, we can identify potential witnesses. It goes without saying that I expect you all to exercise the utmost discretion. And do not put yourselves at risk! Is that clear?’
The Super then sat down and gestured to DCI Lind to take the floor.
‘Ailish Kerrigan was only nineteen years of age when she texted her sister Maureen to say she was on her way home to Ireland. This text was received at 9.15 a.m. on the 15th of June 2009. The next bus to Stranraer to catch the ferry would have been at 11 a.m. She didn’t get the bus. Nor, as far as we are aware, did she ever make it to the ferry port. She simply disappeared into thin air. Sometime after 9 a.m. she left The Collective. There, she was involved in a relationship with Patrick Rafferty, who also hails from Northern Ireland. Her remains were found on the Dundrennan Firing Range, in a shallow grave, within a patch of trees at the top of a hill.’
Lind pointed to the image on the whiteboard. ‘There were some as yet unidentified marks beside where her body was found that are suggestive of someone visiting the site after she died.’
‘I wonder if someone might have been sitting there with an easel? I’ve done a bit of work outdoors with an easel in the past. The marks don’t look dissimilar,’ said DI Moore.
You could have heard a pin drop as everyone took in the horror of her words.
Lind studied the marks closely.
‘I suggest you liaise with SOCO, Kate, and see if that theory is consistent with their findings.’
‘Do we know if she was killed at the burial site or moved there from somewhere else?’ asked DS Stirling.
‘Not yet determined. The body has been in an exposed position for some time. Cause of death is likely due to stabbing, as evidenced by two nicks on the ribs. The body was positioned on its back with the hands by its side, as you can see from the scene photo on screen. Extensive soil samples have been sent off for analysis, but they will take a few weeks to process.’
‘Again, we need to look into the members of The Collective around the time Ailish went missing. It is necessary to establish whether there were people we don’t know about, who left between Ailish’s arrival in Kirkcudbright in 2006 and the present day. These people, if any, need to be traced, identified and interviewed as soon as possible.’
‘You should also be aware that Maureen Kerrigan, the younger sister of the deceased, is over here just now staying in The Cormorant B&B, Kirkcudbright. I want every courtesy to be extended to her if any of you come across her.’
Lind moved away and motioned to Farrell, who stood up to take his place.
‘Turning now to Monro Stevenson. We received the toxicology results back this morning, which confirmed that he was drugged with ketamine. This is now a murder investigation. There was none in the bottle of whisky left on the table, so it must have been added to the glass tumbler. The pathologist has confirmed that there was no apparent puncture mark on the body of the deceased. After the briefing Andy Moran will be releasing an update to the press.’
‘The handwriting expert has confirmed that the signature on the so-called suicide note was very similar but not identical to Monro’s. It was a skilled imitation. The Tech boys have confirmed that there was no trace of it on Monro’s laptop. It was probably brought into the cottage, already prepared, by the killer. This was not a spur-of-the-moment attack, but a carefully premeditated murder.’
‘It doesn’t look like standard printer paper, does it, sir?’ asked PC Rosie Green.
‘That’s correct. The note was printed off on high-quality cream stationery. Unfortunately, not sufficiently high-quality as to be considered bespoke. There were no other such sheets of paper in Monro Stevenson’s cottage.’
‘So, if we find the stationery, we find the killer?’ asked PC Green.
‘Possibly,’ said Farrell. ‘DC McLeod could you contact all the stationery shops in Dumfries and Galloway to ascertain whether they stock this particular paper? If so, try and ascertain whether there is CCTV coverage. It’s a long shot but you never know.’
‘Will do, sir,’ said Mhairi, making a note.
‘That reminds me, we still haven’t heard a peep out of his girlfriend, Nancy Quinn. PC Green, I asked you to bring her in?’
‘No one’s heard from her. The parents did call on her the day the body was found, but she wasn’t there, and she hasn’t responded to the note they put through the door asking her to contact them. I called round a few times too.’ She coloured. ‘Sorry, sir, I should have said something sooner.’
Yes, she should have done, thought Farrell. Mind you, he should have been all over it as well. They’d just been spinning a dizzying number of plates.
‘No harm done,’ he said, hoping it was true. ‘We must tie up this loose end, though.’
Another hand shot up. One of the Kirkcudbright coppers, PC Calum McGhie.
‘I managed to get hold of the landlord to the victim’s cottage, sir. He’s been away visiting family. He confirmed that when the cottage was rented, there was only a basic Yale lock on the door. The deceased had asked if he could upgrade it at his own expense.’
‘So, either he was hiding something valuable, or he felt under threat. I want you to trace the locksmith and interview him. See if he gave him any indication as to why he needed the extra security.’
‘Sir,’ said PC McGhie, writing in his notebook.
The heat in the room had risen to an intolerable level, with so many bodies crammed in to the small lecture theatre combined with the heat from the storage heaters. Farrell glanced at DI Moore, and she gave a small shake of her head.
‘That’s given us enough to chew on for one session. DI Moore will be holding a separate briefing on the forgery ring same time tomorrow.’
Everyone surged out of the two exits to catch up on their paperwork before heading home for the night. Farrell felt the energy drain from him, as if it had hitched on to the tail end of the departing bodies. It was his body’s way of informing him he had been overdoing it. Wearily he ran a hand through his hair. After his near breakdown last year he wasn’t taking any chances. He needed an antidote to the baser side of human behaviour that was threatening once more to engulf him.