Private Investigations (13 page)

‘I believe it is just over fifty thousand pounds,’ Mrs Rainey said. ‘Grete will not get it all, I was told, for there is not enough money there, but there will be some once the assets are realised. I am unhappy about it. And so is Grete, for another reason.’

‘I’m not surprised.’

‘Ah, but I do not think you understand. It is not losing money that makes Grete sad. There will be enough to pay for the printing costs that she incurred on the client’s behalf. It will only be her own time that she loses. No, she is upset because the people involved will lose their home, their car, everything.’

‘It’s a hard old world,’ the DCI remarked. ‘I know because I work in it. If people have broken the criminal law they have to face the consequences, and it’s the same in civil matters. If a court finds that a company has behaved improperly, its directors can’t just fold it up and walk away. There is nothing that your niece should feel guilty about. If you’d come to me instead of going to the civil court I might have ended up charging the client with fraud.’

‘But Grete is kind. She never did a single thing in her life to deserve how that company treated her, nor to deserve what has happened to her today.’ Finally tears tracked down Ingrid Rainey’s stolid face. ‘You know I am not sure that I want her to live. That may be terrible, but it is true. I cannot bear for her to wake up to find that she has lost her baby.’

‘Yeah,’ Pye whispered. ‘I don’t know how I’d feel in those shoes.’

He paused as the woman dabbed at her eyes.

‘The client,’ he began when she was composed. ‘Can you recall the name, of the company or of the owner?’

‘They are the same. It is Mackail.’

It was Pye’s turn to frown.
I know that name
, he thought.

Twenty

‘I have as little to do with my father as I possibly can,’ Donna Rattray confessed. ‘He’s a . . .’ Exasperation showed clearly in her expression. ‘A chancer: that’s what he is. There’s never been any certainty with him, none at all. He’s driven my mother crazy over the years. She works, she’s a cleaner, but she only ever earned enough to clothe Dean and me when we were young, and herself. Dad’s never had a proper steady income as such; she’s never known where the next penny was coming from, never been able to plan anything, never had a holiday. Any time she suggests that, he always says the same thing. “What do we need a holiday for? We live in North Berwick.” That’s my dad. He’s interested in nobody but himself.’

She, Haddock and Wright were standing in the reception hall at Queen Margaret University, the meeting place they had chosen when she and the detective constable had spoken by telephone. Haddock had chosen to begin the discussion obliquely, not to reveal at once the real reason for their visit.

‘And yet,’ he said, ‘the pennies do keep coming in, don’t they?’

‘I’ll give him that,’ Donna conceded. ‘They do. Somehow or other Mum still has a roof over her head, and the fridge is never empty. He goes out in that silly boat of his with his silly pots and always seems to catch enough lobsters and crabs to keep the family afloat.’

‘Is that all he does?’ Wright asked. ‘Doesn’t he have any sidelines?’

The woman’s face flushed; it was only a slight change of shade, but enough to be noticed. ‘He buys and sells stuff,’ she admitted, ‘on the side, but I know very little about it.’

‘You mean the fish?’ Haddock murmured.

‘Yes, but . . . Look, he might be all the things I’ve just told you, but he’s my father, so don’t expect me to shop him.’

‘It’s all right,’ the DS told her. ‘We know all about the fish, but it’s not our concern.’

Her complexion went from pink to red. ‘I’ll bloody kill Levon!’ she exclaimed.

‘That’s not the sort of thing you should be saying to two police officers,’ Haddock chuckled. ‘But it wasn’t only him. We were told about it as well by a friend of your brother, Michael Smith.’

‘Who’s he?’

‘You might know him as Jagger.’

A look of disgust flashed across Donna’s attractive face. ‘Him! Dean knows what I think about him. Has he got my brother involved in that silly business again?’

‘We’re under the impression it was the other way around,’ the DS said. ‘Dean supplying the fish and Jagger storing it . . . or Jagger’s granny, to be completely accurate.’

She threw her head back, gazing at the ceiling. ‘I’m under no illusions about my brother,’ she admitted, ‘but I keep on trying to convince myself that it’s all Dad’s fault for the way he was brought up. It isn’t. Dad might be a chancer, and a bit of a con man, but he isn’t a thief.’ She looked at Haddock once again. ‘Is Dean in trouble?’

‘Yes. Have you heard from him today?’

‘There was a missed call on my mobile,’ she replied. ‘It was from Dean, timed just after ten. But that was all; just that one.’

‘Do you walk to work?’ Jackie Wright asked. ‘We saw a car in your driveway.’

‘We have one each. I’ve got a wee Toyota. Most days I drive here, even though it’s not far.’

‘And park here?’

‘Of course.’

‘Is your car still there?’

Donna Rattray stared at the DC. ‘Why shouldn’t it be?’

‘Just wondering. Can you see it from here?’

‘Yes.’ Donna raised a hand, pointing across the car park in the open area outside. ‘There it . . .’ She stopped. ‘It’s not,’ she exclaimed. ‘It’s gone! Are you bloody psychic?’

‘Sometimes,’ Wright said. ‘Does Dean ever drive it?’

‘Yes, quite often. He can’t insure one himself, with his record.’

‘Does he have a key?’

‘Yes. Are you saying that he . . .’

‘That’s exactly what we’re saying,’ Haddock replied. ‘Colour?’

‘White. It’s the Aygo model. The little . . .’ she hissed.

The DS handed her a card and a pen. ‘Write the number down there.’ She obeyed; he handed it to the DC. ‘Call it in, Jackie.’

‘This is more serious than fish, isn’t it?’ Donna said quietly.

‘Yes it is,’ the DS told her. ‘I’m afraid we’ve got some bad news for you, about your kid brother.’

Twenty-One

‘How did she take it?’ Sammy Pye asked, just before he bit into his burger.

‘Utter denial,’ Haddock told him. ‘What big Levon said was right. Dean is Donna’s weak spot.’

‘There is no chance, I suppose, that he could just have stolen Cosie from Fort Kinnaird, after someone else had left it?’ The DS stared back at him, both eyebrows raised theatrically. ‘No, there isn’t,’ the DCI chuckled. ‘Forget I said that.’

‘Remember the Makka Pakka doll that was found on the wee girl?’

‘Yes, of course.’

‘Control had a message from Lucy Tweedie in North Berwick; it’s just been passed to me. She went along to Poundstretcher herself. The boy on the till remembered selling one to Dino yesterday. He remembered because he knows him, and he laughed when he bought it. He even asked him who it was for. Francey claimed it was for his niece. The lad asked him when Donna had a kid, and Dino changed his story. It became his girlfriend’s niece.’

‘Has anyone come up with an address for this Anna Harmony yet?’

‘Not a sniff; she’s a mystery. There’s nobody of that name holding a National Insurance number anywhere in Britain, or a passport, or a driving licence.’

‘The story was, she lived in a student flat,’ Pye reminded his sergeant. ‘Have the team checked the universities and colleges?’

‘Yes. No trace of a student with that name.’ He paused, to drink from a large mug of tea. ‘However, we asked Donna Rattray about her and she said she has an east European accent. I’m wondering whether Harmony might not be her real name.’

‘We may find out at Lacey’s. Let’s go.’

The two detectives finished their snacks and left the mobile command unit, heading for Pye’s car, which was parked close by. The shopping mall was still busy; most of the units were closed, but the newly opened multiscreen cinema was doing good business.

‘How long will we keep the HQ van here?’ Haddock asked.

‘Another twenty-four hours, max,’ his boss replied. ‘The BMW’s gone to the lab for examination, and I doubt if any more witnesses are going to turn up. We might not need any more, truth be told.’ He paused to press his unlock key.

‘There have been developments that you don’t know about,’ he continued as he slid in behind the steering wheel.

‘I thought you were looking pleased with yourself,’ the DS chuckled, fastening his seat belt.

‘On two fronts; I had a report from the forensic team at the scene of the attack and the abduction at Garvald. They’ve recovered the rock that Grete was hit with. It had been tossed into some bushes, but there was plenty of blood and hair still on it.’

‘Do they think they’ll find the attacker’s DNA on it?’

‘Unless he was wearing gloves, they’re hopeful. Dean Francey wasn’t, on the CCTV we’ve seen, and none were found inside the car.’

‘That’s assuming Francey was the attacker,’ Haddock pointed out.

‘Granted, but my money’s on him because there’s another link. We have the three friends, Maxwell, Hazel and Dean. Maxwell’s the link to the car. Dean’s the driver, found with the child’s body in the boot. And then there’s Hazel.’

‘What about her?’

‘Grete Regal had a legal problem in her design business. A client defaulted on her, leaving her stuck with supplier costs that she’d met herself in the expectation of payment. She won a court judgement against that client, on a personal basis, a short time ago. Her aunt said that she’s been pressing Grete to execute it to recover the debt. That would involve seizing his assets, and the only thing he has of sufficient value is his equity in his mortgaged home. The client’s name is Hector Mackail: Hazel’s dad.’

‘Wow!’ Haddock murmured, reading the DCI’s thoughts as he started his engine and moved off. ‘Are you thinking that Hazel put friend Dino up to kidnapping Grete’s child as a means of making her lay off her dad, using friend Maxwell’s uncle’s car to do it?’

‘It’s a line of inquiry. A kid that age, I doubt it, but could it be her father did? Still, we have a way to go before we get there,’ Pye added. ‘We need to catch Dino and have him point the finger.’

The journey into the city centre passed mostly in silence. They were passing Meadowbank Stadium before the detective sergeant spoke.

‘How are you doing?’ he murmured.

‘Okay,’ Pye replied.

‘I don’t think so. Sammy, you’re not long back from witnessing the post-mortem examination of a five-year-old child. If I was in your shoes, if I was the DCI and you were the DS, you’d still have been there, because I’d have fucking delegated it, as sure as God made wee green apples. That’s what makes you a better gaffer than I’ll ever be, by the way. But you don’t go through something like that and come out of it feeling okay.’

‘Maybe not. I’ll concede that. But it’s not something you share with anyone.’

‘Did you see the mother too?’

Pye shook his head. ‘No, I bottled that. Anyway there was no need, and no point. Grete’s unconscious and will be for some time; it’s possible she’ll never wake up. If she does, she won’t have a crowd of relatives at her bedside, just her formidable aunt. Mother’s dead, and father’s estranged. We need to find him, if we can; whereabouts unknown at the moment. That’ll be another job for our Jackie tomorrow.’

As he spoke, he swung his car round into Royal Terrace, then pulled into a parking space he had spotted. ‘We’ll walk from here,’ he said. ‘It’s just round the corner, in Elm Row.’

‘Do you know the place?’ Haddock asked.

‘I’ve been to Lacey’s once,’ he admitted, ‘at a stag night.’

‘Rough?’

‘Not that bad.’

‘I’d never heard of it until it came up today. I thought all the pole-dancing activity went on up at the pubic triangle, in the West Port.’

‘No, not all; just most of it. You used to live there, didn’t you?’

‘Yup.’

‘What was it like?’

‘Interesting.’

There was a burly doorman on duty outside their destination. ‘Good evening, gentlemen,’ he said. ‘You look like newcomers to Lacey’s. The house rules are very simple: look all you like, but touching is not allowed. You want a private dance, in a booth, you negotiate with the ladies.’

‘Thanks for that,’ Haddock growled, showing his warrant card. ‘We’ll bear it in mind.’

‘Ahh,’ the bouncer murmured as he opened the door for them. ‘See the boss about a discount.’

Lacey’s was dimly lit apart from four poles arranged around an oval-shaped bar. Two were in use, by dark-haired, pale-skinned, long-legged women, each wearing a G-string and black platform shoes with six-inch heels, but very little else, and gyrating vigorously to disco music with a heavy, thumping bass.

They were being watched by no more than half a dozen men, three at the bar, the others in a group at a table. Along the walls were a series of booths; two of those had curtains drawn across them with light showing behind.

Pye whistled the opening bars of Tina Turner’s ‘Private Dancer’ as he walked up to the bar. ‘Who’s the manager here?’ he asked a fully clothed blond woman, who was in the act of pouring a pint of golden Peroni that the DCI recalled from his earlier visit as being horrendously expensive.

‘That would be me, officer,’ she said. ‘Mary O’Herlihy.’

‘Word gets around pretty fast in this place,’ Haddock observed.

‘There’s an intercom at the door,’ she replied, as she handed the pint to its purchaser and took the money. ‘Big Shane tells me whenever he lets somebody in he thinks might be a wee bit dodgy.’

‘I think we’ll take that as a compliment, Mary,’ Pye said. ‘We need a word, about one of your girls.’

‘Who’s that?’

‘Anna Harmony. We were told she’s working tonight.’

‘That’s what I thought too,’ the manager replied, checking her watch. ‘Want a drink? On the house,’ she added.

‘Thanks, but we’ll pass on that. When was she due here?’

‘Fifteen minutes ago. But it’s a quiet night. If she’s just late, like she’s missed her bus, no problem. If she’s stood me up, though, that’ll be a different story.’

‘What’s her nationality?’ the DS asked. ‘We’ve been told she might be east European.’

‘She’s Polish.’ Mary O’Herlihy chuckled. ‘Appropriate, eh, for a Pole to be working in here. Maybe it’s their national sport; could be, because she’s bloody good at it.’

‘What’s her real name? For sure it’s not Harmony.’

‘No, it’s Hojnowski, Anna Hojnowski. That’s how she introduced herself to me when she did her audition, and that’s the name on her payslip. The other one, though, Harmony, that’s what she uses.’

‘How old is she?’

‘Twenty-three; at least that’s what she told me. I don’t ask to see birth certificates.’

‘Maybe you should,’ Pye observed. ‘What can you tell us about her?’

‘Not a lot,’ O’Herlihy said. ‘She’s a nice girl, she’s clean, she never lets the punters get out of hand, not even in the private booths, and she never gives me any bother. Also she gets more in tips than any of the other girls. Apart from that, I know nothing about her.’

‘Do you know where she lives?’ the DCI asked.

‘No.’

‘How about a phone number?’

Her attention was commandeered by one of the trio from the table, who came up to the bar with a drink order. ‘Gimme a minute,’ she told the detectives as she moved to serve him.

‘Fucking music’s doing my head in,’ Pye complained as they waited.

‘You’re showing your age, gaffer,’ Haddock laughed, ‘by that and by the fact that you haven’t shot the two birds on the poles a single glance, not one.’

‘It’s been said many times by many people, but I’ve seen better at home.’

‘Is that right? Funny, I’ve been to your house but I’ve never noticed a pole. Do you keep it in the garage?’

‘Phone number,’ O’Herlihy resumed, as she returned. ‘That I do have; two, in fact. One’s a mobile, the other’s a landline. They’re in the office. I’ll dig them out when Kyle, the barman, gets back. Cigarette break,’ she explained.

‘Do you know Dean Francey, Anna’s boyfriend?’

Her face darkened. ‘Him!’ she snorted. ‘I know about young Dino all right. He’s not welcome here. The laddie is nothing but trouble. I’ve told Anna she should do herself a favour and get shot of him, but the lass is in love. God knows why, because he’s nothing but a lanky lump of malice.’

‘You don’t like him then,’ Haddock said, drily.

‘Not a bit.’

‘What did he do to get barred . . . or is being in your black books cause enough around here?’

‘It can be,’ she admitted, ‘but in this case the offence was starting a fight. The first time he came in here when Anna was working I didn’t like the way he was looking at punters. The second time it got worse, and I warned him. The third time, Anna went into a booth with a punter . . . by the way, the girls aren’t supposed to touch the guys, but what happens in there, that’s their business . . . when they came out, Dino squared up to the bloke. The man didn’t back down and a fight started. Kyle jumped the bar to break it up and Dino started on him. I called Shane in from the door, because Kyle was getting battered, and the idiot stuck one on him as well. That was when I hit him with the baton we keep behind the bar.’

‘Technically that was probably assault,’ Pye pointed out.

‘I regarded it as damage control. Big Shane would have hospitalised him.’ She paused. ‘So that’s why he was barred.’

‘When all that was happening, what did Anna do?’

‘She screamed at him to stop, but he took no notice. The red mist was down. The laddie will do someone some serious damage one day.’

‘We think he may have done that already,’ Haddock confessed. ‘That’s why we need to find Anna.’

‘In that case I’m not waiting for Kyle,’ the manager said. ‘I’ll get you those numbers now. If anyone wants serving, tell them I won’t be a minute.’

She left the oval bar through an opening on the other side, and disappeared from their sight. One of the patrons at the bar disengaged his eyes from the gyrating form above him and stared into an almost empty pint tumbler, just as Kyle, the barman, returned to his post.

‘Do you still think Cheeky would want you to bring her here?’ Pye asked.

‘Once maybe,’ his colleague replied, ‘but not twice, that’s for sure. It’s depressing, isn’t it? I feel sorry for these women, doing this for money. Did you actually enjoy the stag do you came to?’

‘To be honest,’ the DCI chuckled, ‘I don’t remember much about it. It was mine; but I didn’t choose the venue, my best man did that. He told me afterwards that I wound up dancing on a pole in my Y-fronts. He was lying though; I know that ’cos I wear boxers.’

‘Is there photographic evidence of this event?’

‘No, a couple of the guests vetoed that.’

‘Bloody killjoys!’ Haddock snorted. ‘Why would they do that?’

‘Neither Bob Skinner nor Andy Martin fancied being in any of the pictures. Neil McIlhenney wasn’t too keen either.’

‘What about McGuire?’

‘He was on the other pole.’

‘Right, gentlemen,’ the returning Mary O’Herlihy declared, ‘there you are.’ She handed a sheet of paper to Pye. ‘Those are the numbers. I called the mobile while I was away; got no reply.’

The DCI frowned. ‘You didn’t call the landline, did you?’

‘No.’

‘Good. We’ll run a reverse check on it and find where it’s located. We don’t want to give Anna advance notice of our interest.’

‘What if she shows up here?’

‘Say nothing to her about our visit, but call me on that number.’ He took a card from his pocket and handed it over. ‘We’ll come back.’

‘What if the boyfriend’s with her?’

‘Little chance of that,’ Haddock answered, ‘but if he is, call us and have big Shane keep him company till we get here. I’m sure he’d enjoy that.’