They set off for the hotel but a phone call from Janey forestalled them. ‘Your victim and his friends,’ she said, ‘got a bit of background.’
Clare motioned to Chris to pull over and she switched the phone to speaker.
‘I’ve emailed it over,’ Janey went on. ‘But the victim did a bit of time a few years ago.’
‘For?’
‘Drunk driving. He knocked down a young woman one night. Put her in hospital for weeks. He was three times over the limit.’
‘How long did he serve?’
‘Eight months.’
‘That all?’
‘Yeah. It was a dark road, no pavement. She was walking with her back to traffic, dark clothing. The defence made a pretty good case. He pled guilty so it all helped reduce the sentence.’
‘Okay,’ Clare said. ‘Can you look into who he might have met in prison, please? Was it the Bar-L?’
‘Yeah, Barlinnie,’ Janey confirmed. ‘I’ll get onto the prison and see who he shared with.’
Chris leaned forward. ‘What’s he done since prison, Janey?’
‘He’s done all right, to be honest. He was a chef by trade so he started working in a steak house in the centre of Glasgow. Then he took over a cafe that was going out of business. Got it cheap and built it up. Sold it and bought another restaurant. Up till a couple of months ago he had two restaurants. But he put them on the market. Word is he’s had a few offers.’
‘Any idea why?’
‘No. He might just be that kind of guy. Buy cheap, build it up then sell for a profit.’
‘Yeah, could be. Is that it?’
‘Not quite. One of the other lads has a bit of previous too.’
They waited.
‘Steve Christie. It’s a while ago now but he did a couple of years for firearms offences.’
Clare glanced at Chris. ‘What sort of offences?’
‘Supplying small arms, mainly. Smuggled in from Eastern Europe and sold around Glasgow – small-time gangsters and the like.’
‘How long ago was that?’
‘Just over ten years.’
‘And since?’
‘Nothing, boss. He has an online business now. Buys cheap tat from China and supplies a few market stalls, corner shops. All seems above board. Files a tax return each year. No indication he’s involved in anything illegal.’
‘All the same,’ Clare said.
‘What about the other two?’ Chris asked.
‘Nothing. Both clean. Doug Gerrard owns pubs out the west end of Glasgow. Nice places. No problem with the licence and very little trouble, overall.’
‘And Eamon Ferry?’
‘Works for Glasgow City Council. Quite high up in the Planning Department.’
Clare considered this. ‘Any involvement in planning disputes?’
‘No. Squeaky clean.’
Clare thought of Eamon Ferry, his smooth manner, neat clothes, and she reckoned if he was involved in anything dodgy he’d be good at covering his tracks. But maybe she was being unfair. ‘What about Gaby and her husband?’
‘Still to check them, boss. But I’ll be surprised if there is anything. She’s in the public eye – splashed all over the papers every other week. If there was anything there the press would be all over it.’
‘Fair enough. But check all the same, yeah? And get onto Barlinnie prison. Find out who was in at the same time as Russell Fox and Steve Christie. Especially anyone involved with guns.’
Chris restarted the engine and signalled to pull out again.
‘Fancy a coffee at the station, first?’ Clare said. ‘I’d like to get things straight in my head before we speak to the three men again.’
‘Can we stop and get some food? Please?’
‘Chris, we’re in the middle of a murder investigation.’
He cancelled the signal and jerked on the handbrake. ‘I’ve been on the go since seven this morning. You might have started the day with a hotel breakfast but I had a slice of toast about,’ he checked his watch, ‘nine hours ago and I’ve barely stopped since. Right now, I could eat my own head.’
‘Okay!’ Clare said. ‘You’ve made your point. Leave the car here and we’ll walk back to Cromars. I’ll treat you to fish and chips.’
‘You might have brought me some chips,’ Sara said, wrinkling her nose as Chris and Clare entered the incident room.
‘Nose like a ferret,’ Chris muttered.
‘Sorry,’ Clare said. ‘We didn’t think. Chris’ll go back out again. My treat.’
She tossed her head. ‘S’okay. I had a sandwich earlier.’ Then she glared at Chris. ‘You can make dinner tonight, if we ever get home.’
‘Still trawling through the footage?’ Clare said.
‘Yeah.’ Sara stifled a yawn. ‘Nothing much, though. Just one thing – about eleven, the security guard walks round to the back of the house. Looks like he’s talking to someone then he disappears out of sight. Maybe going for a cup of tea, or slice of pizza.’
‘Any sign of anyone slipping in while he was gone?’
Sara shook her head. ‘Not so far. But I’ll keep at it.’
‘Let me know, yeah?’ Clare stood thinking for a moment. ‘Anything else? Did I miss anything over the weekend?’
Sara leaned back in her chair and began rubbing her neck. ‘Oh the usual, you know. Couple of lads drunk and disorderly, a missing dog, stolen car.’ She rose from her seat, yawning. ‘Think I’ll just make a drink. I’m falling asleep looking at that screen.’
Clare followed her to the kitchen. ‘I could do with a cup myself. That it – the dog and the car?’
Sara switched the kettle on to boil. ‘We had a missing child. It’s all sorted out now, though.’
‘Oh? What happened?’
‘Little boy. Daniel something. I’ve logged it on the system. Mum was out working and the babysitter stayed the night. But he got up and slipped out before the babysitter wakened. He was found a couple of streets away. Said he was hungry and wanted his breakfast.’
Clare stared. ‘Seriously? How the hell did he get out of the house?’
‘He’s three, boss. Nearly four, actually. Easy enough for a bright child to work out how to open a door.’
‘What did you do about it?’
‘The mother turned up before we found out who he was. She came home, saw he was missing and she and the babysitter went out looking. Someone told her they’d seen police in the street so she came straight to the station.’
‘Did you report it?’
‘Social Services? Yeah. Give them their due, they came out straight away. The social worker called into the station a few hours later. All checked out at home. He’s well cared for, house clean and tidy, food in the fridge. Just a case of the babysitter oversleeping and Daniel waking up early. Mum’s called a locksmith to put a chain and a high bolt on the door.’
‘But they’re going to keep an eye on the family?’
Sara nodded. ‘Just mum and Daniel. I think dad’s out of the picture.’
‘Where was she?’ Clare asked. ‘The mum, I mean.’
‘Night shift. I was in the middle of dealing with it when we got the call from Lamond Lodge. So I kind of left it with Social Services.’
‘Fair enough. Maybe give it a day or two then call them again. Make sure they’re on top of it. We don’t want to risk a child being in danger.’
Sara smiled. ‘Will do. But it does look like a one-off. The mum was horrified. I doubt it’ll happen again.’
‘Okay.’ Clare glanced at her watch. She’d like to have spoken to the three men about the minibus but SOCO would be back at the Lodge now, going over those upstairs rooms. Better to wait until they knew where the shot had come from. She still had Benjy to pick up from her neighbour Moira, and Chris and Sara looked done in. ‘I think we’ll call it a night, guys,’ she said. ‘I’ll check with Jim to make sure everything’s secure up at the Lodge. Back in for a briefing at eight tomorrow. Pass the word round.’
‘Want a lift back?’ Chris said.
‘Please.’
Chris drove while Clare called Moira. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she said. ‘I know I said I’d be back early afternoon.’
‘Oh Clare, don’t worry,’ Moira said. ‘I heard there was a death out at Lamond Lodge so I assumed you’d be busy. Why don’t I keep Benjy overnight and walk him for you tomorrow? Then I’ll drop him back late afternoon.’
Clare thanked Moira and ended the call. As she neared Daisy Cottage she saw a lamp was on in the hall but the rest of the house was in darkness. DCI Gibson’s car was missing too. He must have gone back to his own house in Aberdour, in the south of Fife. Not surprising, really. He had a conference coming up so he’d have to pack for that. All the same, she’d liked to have had him waiting in the cottage, maybe with some food, a glass of wine. Run her a bath, even.
She climbed out of Chris’s car and thanked him for the lift. It was odd putting her key in the door and not hearing Benjy bark. But she was tired now and glad she wouldn’t have to do his evening walk. She closed the door and saw her overnight bag standing in the hall. In the kitchen a portion of homemade curry stood defrosting next to the microwave. A wine bottle was on the kitchen table, corkscrew beside it, a Post-it note on the neck. She peeled it off and read,
Hope you’re not too late home.
You deserve a glass of this.
Enjoy.
Love A x
She lifted the note and kissed it softly. Then she began to peel the foil capsule off the cork.