Private Investigations (14 page)

Twenty-Two

‘Is there anything in this part of Edinburgh that isn’t a student flat?’ Sammy Pye wondered, as he and his sergeant walked along Davie Street, searching for number seventy-seven.

‘Not much,’ Haddock replied. ‘I lived here myself for a while when I was one of the rarely washed. My mum was terrified; she thought the place was a fire trap. She was probably right, but it looks as if it’s been refurbished since then.’

‘What was the number again?’

‘Seventy-seven, F two A. That’s it, look.’ He pointed to a backlit panel beside a blue-painted entrance door, then pressed a button.

‘Hi, who’s that?’ a bright young female voice asked.

‘Detective Sergeant Harold Haddock, Edinburgh CID, with Detective Chief Inspector Pye. We’re looking for Anna Hojnowski, also known as Anna Harmony.’

‘Singer? She’s out. I suppose she’s down at Lacey’s, dancing on her pole.’ The speaker fell silent. The DS pressed the button again.

‘What?’ The girl had a low annoyance threshold.

‘We need a word,’ Haddock said.

‘Sure you do,’ she drawled, sarcastically. ‘This is a raid, isn’t it? I’ve heard you lot have been cracking down on students lately, since the national shock troops replaced our so-called friendly local bobbies.’

‘So young and yet so cynical,’ the DS chuckled. ‘If this was a drugs bust, it would be two detective constables ringing your doorbell, and at least one would be female . . . in case of a strip search,’ he added. ‘We don’t give a bugger what you’ve been inhaling, miss. We need to talk to you about Singer, okay? You can come down here if you want but it’s fucking Baltic.’

The young woman gave in. ‘All right, all right. Come on up, if you insist.’ A buzzing sound came from the doorframe; the DS pushed and it swung open.

‘Nice touch about the female DC,’ Pye murmured as they jogged up the two flights of stairs.

The door of 2A was open as they stepped on to the second-floor landing; a tall blond girl in black leggings and a sweatshirt with Prince Harry’s face emblazoned on it stood, waiting. ‘I’m Celia Brown,’ she announced, in a polished accent that came from somewhere well south of Edinburgh. ‘Can I see your ID?’

‘We insist that you do,’ the DCI said as they produced their warrant cards and held them up for inspection.

When Celia was satisfied, she stood aside and let them in; the atmosphere was a cocktail of odours, a mix of cosmetics and fried food. ‘The living room is straight ahead.’

They stepped through the door she indicated. Inside, another blonde, who was lounging on a sofa, frowned at them over her shoulder. ‘
Corrie
’s on,’ she complained. ‘Take them into the kitchen, Celia.’

Haddock smiled; he picked up a remote from the arm of the couch and pressed a button. The screen froze. ‘I’ve got the same Freeview box,’ he explained. ‘You can watch the rest when we’re done.’

‘Bugger!’

‘And you are, miss?’ Pye asked.

‘Ilse Brogan.’

‘You’re a student too?’

‘Of course, we all are. Celia and I are doing math and economics, Singer’s doing business studies.’

‘Anna’s a student?’

‘Of course. Just because she pays her way by gyrating round a pole for sweaty middle-aged losers, don’t assume that she’s dumb.’

‘That’s right,’ Celia chipped in. ‘She makes more cash on that bloody pole than she will when she graduates and gets a proper job.’

‘The tips are that good?’

‘They are in the private booths, where special services can be offered.’

‘Are you saying Singer’s a hooker?’ Haddock exclaimed.

‘Not really, but if a punter wants a hand job, it’s fifty quid. She’s a nice girl, but she’s not a posh bird like us, with a well-heeled daddy behind her, so it’s hard for her to turn down easy money.’

‘Is that why her boyfriend caused a ruck in there one night?’

‘Dino could start a ruck in an empty house,’ Ilse volunteered. ‘He’s a creep. I don’t know why she’s so smitten by him.’

Celia smiled. ‘There is a certain rough charm about him.’

‘He’s as charming as a rabid dog,’ her flatmate declared. ‘I think that Celia puts up with him,’ she told the detectives, ‘because she has a crush on his friend.’

‘I don’t see Jagger as being in Celia’s league,’ the DCI observed.

Both young women laughed. ‘God, not him!’ Ilse hooted. ‘I mean the other one, Ian, the brooding guy that Dino’s going to call Drizzle once too often.’

‘How did they meet, Singer and Dean?’

Celia frowned. ‘I’m not sure. He just seemed to materialise, like some nasty weather.’

‘Does he ever stay over here?’

‘No, that’s not allowed; it’s a house rule. We don’t have the space here, plus the walls are like paper.’

‘So where do they go for . . . privacy?’

‘Dino’s place, I suppose. It’s out at the seaside somewhere, I believe. If she’s not on her pole . . .’

‘She isn’t,’ Haddock said.

‘Then that’s where I’d go looking for her.’

‘If they were there we’d have been told by now.’

‘I know how they met.’

Three heads turned towards Ilse Brogan.

‘Enlighten us, please,’ Pye invited her.

‘Singer’s a couple of years older than we are, yet she’s a year behind us at uni. She came to Scotland with Polish entrance qualifications, and had to get them upgraded before she could start a degree course. She had a job while she was studying for her Highers. She worked in a factory, and sometimes she babysat for the guy who owned it. Between us, I think she might have had a small fling with him, but if she did, it wasn’t serious.’

‘I’ve never heard this before,’ Celia murmured.

‘No, but you only moved in here last autumn. This story goes back before that.’

Haddock nodded. ‘Go on.’

‘Some time early last year, in the spring maybe, Singer told me that her old boss had been in touch and invited her to a party in his new house. His marriage had broken up and he was celebrating, he told her. She went along. I don’t know if the chap had any ideas, but if he did, they didn’t work out, for that was the night when Anna met Dino Francey. One of the people at the party was drunk and he made a pass at her. Dino saw him off, and that was the start of it all.’

‘Interesting,’ the DS said. ‘Can you remember where this party happened?’

‘Sure, and I can even tell you the name of the host. It was in North Berwick, and his name was Callum Sullivan. He introduced the two of them, Singer and Dino.’

The two detectives stared at each other. ‘Are you sure about that?’ Pye asked.

‘Of course. Singer had a Christmas card from him.’ Ilse frowned. ‘What’s this about anyway? Are you going to tell us? So far you’ve done nothing but ask questions.’

‘No, we’re not going to tell you,’ Pye replied. ‘All I will say is that it’s Dean Francey we need to locate, not Singer, but as far as we can see, she’s our best route to him. So when she shows up, tell her to get in touch with us. I repeat, tell her, don’t ask her.’

He caught a look in Celia’s eye, an anxious look. ‘Ian’s not involved in whatever it is, is he?’

He smiled. ‘No. As far as we can tell he’s on the side of the good guys.’

They left the two students to return to
Coronation Street
, and made their way back outside. ‘I’ll drop you at the office,’ the DCI told Haddock, ‘so you can pick up your car.’

‘I’d expect no less,’ Haddock replied cheerfully. ‘What’s tomorrow’s priority?’ he asked.

‘Assuming Dino hasn’t turned up, we visit the man Mackail. In fact, we might ask him to visit us, just to sweat him up a little. After that, another chat with Callum Sullivan would seem in order.’

‘Sounds like a plan,’ the DS agreed.

He was just about to slide into Pye’s car when his phone sounded. ‘That’s probably Cheeky, telling me my salad’s in the oven,’ he said as he took it from his pocket. ‘No it’s not,’ he murmured as he checked the screen. ‘It’s Jackie.’

‘Sarge,’ she exclaimed as soon as he answered, ‘I’ve just had a call from the control room.’ Her tone told him, unequivocally, that their working day was not complete.

‘A patrol car just answered a call to a location on the road to the Glencorse Reservoir, just past the Flotterstone Inn. They found a Toyota car abandoned and burned out. The number matches Donna Rattray’s Aygo.’ Her voice quivered with tension.

‘There are two bodies inside,’ she added.

Twenty-Three

They saw the blue light from a mile away, absorbed and amplified by the low cloud ceiling. The patrol car was waiting at the entrance road to the Flotterstone Inn, a place that Pye knew well. It was one of his wife’s favourite haunts, although their visits had been less frequent since the birth of their child two years earlier.

A sergeant in a Day-Glo jacket stood beside his vehicle.

‘Where is it?’ the DCI asked.

‘Go straight on up the Glen road, sir. You’ll see the signs. Carry on for the best part of a mile. There’s a fire appliance at the scene, although the blaze was out by the time we got there.’

‘Who reported it?’

‘There’s a house a wee bit beyond, beside the reservoir. The householder went out to get some logs and saw the light in the sky. He ran down there and called Fire and Rescue.’

‘When?’

‘Must be two hours ago now. The fire guys didn’t call us in till they had the blaze under control, and could see what’s inside the car. By the way, sir, the team leader’s going frantic; I don’t know what the fuck’s wrong with him.’

‘What does he look like?’ Haddock asked.

‘Big bloke,’ the officer replied. ‘You canna miss him. He’s got a couple of stripes on his jacket. I’m not certain but I think he’s black.’

The two detectives exchanged glances. ‘Thanks,’ the DCI said. ‘We’ll get on up there.’

‘Mind the road, sir,’ the constable volunteered. ‘It’s no the best.’

‘Fuck!’ Pye murmured as he drove on. ‘This is not good.’

As they had been warned, the road was rough and narrow, limiting their speed; it took them a couple of minutes to reach the clearing where the fire appliance stood, with its spotlights trained on what was left of the white Toyota.

They saw Levon Rattray at once; two of his crew were beside him as if they were holding him back, but when he saw Pye’s car he shook them off, and ran towards it.

‘Have they told you?’ he yelled, grabbing Haddock by the arm as he stepped out. ‘He’s in there, Dino and somebody else.’

The DS took hold of his wrist and squeezed it, hard enough to make the man release him, saying as he did, ‘Calm down, Levon. We’ve been told that there may be bodies in the vehicle, but we’re making no assumptions. We know that the car is your wife’s, and we know that she isn’t in it, but those are the only two absolute facts we have.’

‘It’s Dino, I know it.’

‘Then let us take a look,’ Pye told him. ‘But you, please stay back. You’ve done your job; now let us do ours. Go and sit in your cab. We’ll talk to you when we’re ready.’

‘I want to come with you,’ the fireman insisted.

‘If we need you we’ll call you,’ the DCI said, firmly. ‘Now, do as I ask, please.’ He turned to Haddock. ‘Sauce, get us a couple of . . .’

The sergeant had anticipated the instruction and was in the act of taking two paper crime scene suits from a box in the boot of the car. They slipped them on and walked towards the wreck, Haddock carrying a large halogen torch.

The Aygo was sodden, water was coursing from the roof, and dripping from the empty window frames. They guessed that the glass had blown out from the heat of the fire.

The occupants were soaked also, two black twisted figures that could have been carved from any carbonous material, obscene impressionist sculptures that once might have been part of the woodland that surrounded the site . . . had it not been for the teeth that gleamed in the beam of the detective sergeant’s flashlight when he fixed it on the occupant of the driver’s seat.

‘Dental records or a DNA match, I think.’ A soft female voice came from behind them. They turned, as one.

‘Professor,’ Pye exclaimed. ‘Don’t you have a junior you could send to a job like this?’

‘Yes,’ Sarah Grace replied, ‘but two dead bodies in a burned-out car is very rarely a job for a postgraduate assistant. How much do we know, Sammy?’

‘The car was taken from the park at Queen Margaret University this afternoon. The suspected thief is the owner’s brother, who’s wanted in connection with the abduction and death of the child the gaffer found at Fort Kinnaird this morning.’

‘How sure are you?’

‘Percentage scale? About ninety-five.’

‘And the other occupant? I’m not even prepared to take a guess at the gender at this stage.’

‘Look at the feet, boss,’ Sauce Haddock said to Pye, training the beam on to the passenger. ‘Those things, those shoes, or what’s left of them. We’ve seen something like those tonight, somewhere else. Long heels, platform soles.’

Pye nodded. ‘The standard footwear in Lacey’s, it looks like . . .’ He looked back towards the pathologist. ‘We think she’s Anna Hojnowski, also known as Anna Harmony, or by her nickname, Singer. She was the driver’s girlfriend. Everybody told her he was no use, but she wouldn’t listen.’

‘It’s not a mistake she’s going to get over,’ Sarah murmured.

‘No, but she’s left us a few questions. First and foremost, what were she and Dino doing here?’

‘Maybe they were having one for the road,’ Haddock suggested, bluntly.

The DCI snorted. ‘That would have been an odd sense of priorities for someone on the run from a potential double murder charge. And second question, why were they at this spot? It’s pretty far off the road. We need to clear the whole area, Sauce, to let the CSI team look for evidence of a second vehicle here around the same time.’

‘Which leads us to the most obvious question,’ Sarah said. ‘Why didn’t they get out of the car after it caught fire? Sauce, can I borrow your light?’

She leaned into the car, focusing the beam of the lamp on the blackened head of the thing in the passenger seat. She studied it for almost a minute, then dug into a pocket of her tunic and produced a magnifying glass, which she used to examine a small area above what had been an eye socket. After a few minutes she straightened up and faced her companions.

‘She . . . assuming you guys are right . . . appears to have been shot through the head. If so, it’s a safe bet that he was as well. They were executed, both of them.’

‘Will they be able to recover the bullets?’ Pye asked.

‘A small calibre soft-nosed bullet might still be in there. But if I can’t find it at the autopsy, you should be able to. It’ll be embedded in something, either in the fabric of the vehicle or the ground around it.’

‘How soon can you do the post-mortems?’

‘How soon can you let me have the bodies?’ she countered.

‘The crime scene team are on their way here. As soon as they’ve been photographed and filmed in situ, we’ll get them to you.’

‘For identification I’m going to need DNA samples,’ she said.

‘That shouldn’t be a problem, as far as the driver’s concerned. We think that overwrought fireman by the appliance is his brother-in-law, so we can arrange to take a sample from his wife. As for Anna, we know where she lives; with a bit of luck there will be something in her room that’ll give us what we need, hairbrush, leg shaver, whatever.’

She nodded. ‘All good. In that case I’ll head for the city mortuary and wait for the bodies to arrive. I’ll call in my assistant, we’ll do both autopsies tonight and get the DNA matching under way.’ She handed the flashlight back to Haddock and headed for her car. She had gone only a few steps before stopping and looking back at them.

‘Given that Bob has a loose interest in this,’ she called out, ‘can I discuss it with him?’

‘Of course,’ Pye replied. ‘If he wants to know anything else, tell him to call me.’

The detectives watched her leave. ‘A change from Joe Hutchinson,’ Haddock observed.

‘She’s just as good,’ his boss said. ‘She’s always been better tuned into our wavelength than Master Yoda, given her police connection through big Bob. She’s right about this being an execution. It was a bloody efficient one too. Neither of them even made it out of the car.’

‘Do we assume the shooter was the person who planned the abduction?’

‘That’s the only logical conclusion we can come to. There’s no obvious indication that Dean Francey had a personal motive for attacking Grete and abducting wee Zena. He must have been hired to do the job. And when he bungled it, he became a danger to whoever is behind it. Let’s go on the assumption that he was lured to a meeting here, for example by the promise of cash for a getaway, and was eliminated.’

‘Fair enough,’ the DS agreed, ‘but why was Anna Harmony here as well? That’s assuming it is her.’

‘She must have been going away with him. Ilse did say she was “smitten by him”, to use her phrase. Maybe she was part of it, maybe she knew nothing of what he had done; either way we’ve no way of knowing, or of finding out. For now, Sauce, we’re left with only one line of inquiry, and that’s Grete Regal’s business problem.’

‘Agreed. Let’s pull Mackail in now, tonight.’

‘No, we can’t do that,’ Pye exclaimed. ‘He’s a person of interest, but no more than that, so far. Plus we’ll be tied up here for a while. I don’t know about you, but I’m shagged out, and I’d rather tackle the man when I’m fresh. Tomorrow morning, we can draw up a workable strategy for him.’

‘If you say so, Sammy. I must admit, I’ve had enough for today too. Wee Zena was bad, and now this. I need some domestic therapy from Cheeky.’

‘Then let’s get ready to brief the CSIs,’ Pye declared, ‘if the buggers ever get here. Meanwhile, I’d better follow bloody protocol, and advise the city commander of a major incident.’

‘And phone the DCC?’

‘Too right; this is something else he won’t want to find out about via the TV news.’