Whisky From Small Glasses (29 page)

The deal was simple. In return for immunity from further prosecution of he and his crew, Demienov would undertake
to tell Daley all he knew about what the gang, who had inflicted themselves on his vessel, were doing and had done. This would include those with whom he knew them to be in contact, local drop-off points and any information he had regarding their operation and structure within Latvia.

Daley knew that there was no little risk involved with an agreement of this type. He could not be sure that Demienov was not part of the organised crime gang who had targeted Kinloch, nor could he be sure that anything the fisherman said would be of any value. However, he was working on the instinct which throughout his career had worked better than any of the technical processes that had been hammered into his brain over the years. He would have to set the ball rolling by putting the proposition to Donald, who would then need to get authorisation from the very top.

Daley was desperate to bring those behind the murder of Fraser to justice. Despite the culprit lying dead on a gurney at Kinloch Hospital, he felt strongly that the wider organisation was like a cancer feeding on this small community and something that must be eradicated. However, he did not believe that the Latvians were responsible for the three other murders he was investigating; it was that instinct again. On reflection, the gnawing doubt had been there before the raid took place. Was it merely his self-preening arrogance that had led to the death of Fraser? Should he have handed the whole operation over to Customs or the drugs squad? Certainly, he had been urged by his boss to retain charge of a situation of which he was not the architect.

He now had four murders on his hands; probably two distinct investigations. Why was he so sure that the deaths of
Watson, Ritchie and Mulligan were not connected to the drug smugglers who had killed Fraser? According to the Royal Navy, the Latvian fishing boat was nowhere near local waters when Mulligan and Ritchie were killed. They could have been murdered by accomplices of the gang, but Daley thought this unlikely.

‘Apart from Pulse, and the involvement with the Latvians, Bri, there’s some connection we’re missing.’ The two detectives were sitting in Daley’s glass box, having left Demienov to sweat it out in the Kinloch cells. Donald was due back in an hour, and Daley was desperately trying to find something to justify his approach to the various deaths.

‘I know what you mean. Why wid the Ruskies come intae port here if they’d jist killed their mates? They must’ve known that we’d have found the bodies by that time, Jim,’ Scott said, swirling the coffee in his mug.

The DNA of all the Latvians, including the dead gunman, was being tested, along with that of all the regular male customers of Pulse. This would take time, with no promise of anything conclusive; part of the grind of the investigation, but you never could tell.

Daley’s phone gave its internal-call ring. ‘Sir, there’s a Davie Fraser on the line to speak to you.’ The PC’s voice was strained; she had made the obvious connection.

Liz and Glynn Seanessy were standing in the Machrie car park studying an Ordnance Survey map spread over the bonnet of the Land Rover. He had donned a pair of old-fashioned thick glasses, and his hair was now flying up in strands in the light sea breeze. Already, on a rock in the small bay, Liz had spotted a colony of common seals basking in
the spring sunshine. The sea made the air fresh and new, and with the sun on the back of her neck, she was beginning to enjoy her trip, despite her unusual guide and the state of his transport.

‘I thought we could try up here first.’ Seanessy was pointing at a location on the map with a chewed pencil. A small ridge was located behind the bay, from which she could take some good panoramic shots and possibly catch sight of a pair of golden eagles that were nesting not far away. Now there was an image that Liz would love to capture.

Seanessy pored over the map, then scratched at his behind, only stopping when he noticed the curl of disgust on Liz’s lips. ‘Eh, sorry, I’m afraid I’m not so used to company these days, especially of the female variety.’

Liz noticed that his ears had become very red. ‘I’m the one who should be sorry. I’m too used to nagging my husband when he does things like that. Go on, scratch your arse whenever you want.’

Seanessy resumed his deliberations with an awkward smile.

‘I canna believe it, Jimmy. He wiz a good lad, ye know? A bit o’ a lassie when it came tae the bevy, but a good lad a’ the same.’ Davie Fraser sounded frail over the phone.

‘I know how you must be feeling, Davie. I’ve not even been able to phone his folks yet. Everything’s just been . . .’ He didn’t get time to finish.

‘Well, that wiz kinda why I wiz phoning, Jimmy.’ Davie Fraser still used the diminutive with which he had addressed Daley when he was a young probationer. ‘They’ve had that prick Donald on the phone, and Mary’s quite upset.’

‘How do you mean?’ Daley could feel his hackles rise.

‘Och, you ken that one. It wiz a’ “noble sacrifice”, an’ “for the greater good” stuff. He’s forgettin’ I kent him when he wiz a two-shilling bully fae the slums. Fuck me, ye wid think ye were talking tae the prime minister noo, the way he goes on . . .’

‘You still there, Davie?’ Daley was doodling with a pen on the large deskpad. Speaking to bereaved relatives was arduous at the best of times; even more so when you shared a past with them.

‘I’m sorry, Jimmy,’ Davie Fraser said, his voice breaking. ‘I had a lot o’ time fir the boy – like a son tae me, ye know? I mean, look at the state o’ me noo. I can hardly walk the length o’ myself, an’ I know it’s a’ cos o’ the bevy. I’m a fuckin’ waste o’ space. The boy wiz worth somethin’, ye know?’

Daley agreed, but said nothing.

Liz and Seanessy were scaling the ridge that overlooked Machrie Bay. The climb was steeper than it had looked from the car park, and she could already feel rivulets of sweat running down her back. She wondered how Seanessy must be feeling; he was still wearing a waterproof jacket and now looked extremely hot. Despite this, he kept up a commentary on the visual pleasures of their trip; they had already seen numerous seabirds, small mammals and plant life, about which Seanessy seemed to be well informed.

‘Ah, look, a heron. Beautiful bird, don’t you think?’

‘Yes, they’re wonderful, so majestic in flight,’ Liz replied.

He peered at the bird through a pair of old binoculars. ‘They only nest in two places in the world, you know. Here and the African savannah. Incredible, isn’t it? I’ve always thought of them as a little bit of Africa here in Scotland.’

After much exertion, they reached the summit of the ridge. Before them, at this elevated height, lay the full panoply of the bay. Immediately below, arable farmland gave way to patchy machair, then on to the sandy bay, fringed by the breaking waves of the restless Atlantic. In the distance, the islands of the Inner Hebrides loomed.

Liz looked to her left, training her binoculars on what seemed like the closest visible landmass. ‘Which island is that, Mr Seanessy?’

‘You’re right to say it’s an island, technically that is. However, it’s a much larger one than the others.’ He had that perambulatory way of explanation peculiar to the enthusiast. ‘That is the wonderful island of Ireland.’

Liz looked again, amazed at the proximity of it. ‘Wow, I can see a car! Look over there to the left – it’s quite clear.’

‘It’s only twelve miles at the closest point, not far from where we are looking at the moment, in fact. That’s the coast of County Antrim.’

The pair continued to take in the view for a few minutes. Magnified, the Irish coast looked blue. A lighthouse flashed white every few seconds, wavering through a heat haze.

‘Of course that’s still the UK we are seeing, but look there – to the right. Do you see that faint shape in the distance?’

‘Yes, it’s pretty clear.’

‘That’s County Donegal, in the Republic, a foreign country to all intents and purposes now. Where my grandfather came from, actually. We haven’t strayed far as a family, come to think of it.’

Liz breathed in deeply; the mixed scent of land and sea was heady in the spring heat. ‘If you don’t mind, I’ll get one of my lenses and try to get a few shots of the Emerald Isle,’ she
said, fumbling in her backpack and eventually extracting an expensive-looking piece of equipment.

‘Be my guest. We’ve got all day,’ replied Seanessy.

Liz looked up and smiled in response, but his gaze was cast far away, his expression unreadable. She busied herself attaching the lens, found her portable tripod, and then looked around for the best image.

Daley had just received a report from the pathologist: still no matches for the unidentified semen samples found on both Watson and Ritchie’s bodies. They would have to consider extending the criteria from just the sample group in the local community. Action like this was always controversial: people became concerned about a Big Brother state. But a modern police force had to use everything it had to hand in order to catch criminals: that was the pay-off.

Forensic examination of Mulligan’s cabin cruiser,
Russian Gold,
had proved more fruitful. SOCO had found a number of fibres not belonging to the vessel or victims; more work was being done.

Scott arrived back in Daley’s glass world to let him know that Donald was back in the office after his ‘doss’, as the irascible DS termed it.

Daley walked along the corridor to what had been MacLeod’s office to find Donald sifting through a mountain of paperwork which had been deposited on the hitherto immaculate desk.

‘It’s you, Jim.’ Donald had been caught off guard, and he looked flustered at the DCI’s arrival. ‘Just getting down to some investigation of my own.’ He furrowed his brow to indicate sincerity, which always had the opposite effect.
‘Hopefully find what else this Highland rogue was keeping hidden. He’s coming in later for an interview with discipline and myself. I wouldn’t mind a few lines from you on what took place between you both, say in the next couple of hours?’

‘So you’re basically rifling through his drawers.’ Daley’s statement was flat, just the way he felt.

Deciding to ignore the remark, Donald changed tack. ‘I’ve spoken to young Fraser’s parents, thought I would take some of the weight off your shoulders.’ Donald raised his eyebrows, looking, no doubt, for an expression of gratitude from Daley.

‘I heard,’ was his only response.

‘They were upset, as is to be expected.’

‘I’m going to call them myself, this evening.’

‘I’m sure there isn’t any need. I think I covered our response to the tragedy adequately. They’ll get a letter of condolence from the chief constable, and of course the First Minister.’ Donald smiled with satisfaction, as though, in his mind, the intervention of such exalted figures more than compensated for a dead son in a mortuary drawer.

‘Please ensure that no one else talks to them before I get a chance to. Enough damage has been done already.’ Daley was emphatic.

‘Meaning what, exactly?’

‘Meaning I’ve talked to another close relative, who thought that your call was disgraceful, that’s what.’

Donald put down the silver quaich he had been examining and glared at Daley. ‘Whatever it is that’s eating you, please excise it by bouncing it off your halfwit DS, not me. I’ve still not forgotten that we have a growing number of
unsolved murders, with no solution in sight. Neither have I lost sight of the fiasco that was the last press conference you and that fuckin’ idiot presided over. If you’ve come to chastise me, think again, and get your head back into the job in hand.’ He picked up the quaich and turned it over in his hands.

Daley ignored his boss’s outburst. ‘I need to extend the local DNA sample. Every man in the area between sixteen and forty. Is that possible?’

‘Oh yes, it’s possible, but is it
desirable?
These “human rights” things are a pain in the arse. Endless paperwork and . . .’

‘The Latvian skipper wants to do a deal on behalf of himself and his crew, in return for information about the drugs supply here. I’ll need an answer to both these questions within the hour.’ Daley turned on his heel and left the office, slamming the door in the process.

Liz had managed to capture some good images, including a stag, a hare, some fantastic landscapes, and even a distant, yet clear, shot of a golden eagle soaring high over the escarpment. She had enjoyed herself, though her guide had become more and more introverted as the trip had gone on, despite her frequent attempts at small talk. True to her nature, she decided to ask why. ‘I hope everything is OK? Sorry if I’ve been blethering on. You must be used to this wonderful scenery, but it’s such a novelty for me.’

Seanessy looked blankly at her for a moment. ‘I apologise. Been a bit off colour today. I can’t help thinking about these dreadful murders. I hear a policeman was killed last night, at least that’s the local gossip.’ He suddenly looked embarrassed.
‘I’m not fishing for information or anything . . . I mean, I know who you are. I hope you don’t think . . .’

‘Not at all, it’s OK. It must be such a shock to everyone, especially in a quiet little place like this.’ She decided to change the subject. ‘You were a teacher here, weren’t you?’

‘Yes, indeed, served before the mast for much longer than I care to mention. I always wanted to be a scientist. You know the type of thing: research, Oxbridge, a comfortable life as a don. Not to be, I’m afraid.’ A shadow crossed his face.

‘You can’t complain about where you live now, though? It’s absolutely glorious. You somehow never think that places as beautiful as this exist in Scotland. Do you know what I mean?’ Her husband would have winced at the inflection in her voice.

‘Yes, I suppose I have much to be thankful for.’ Seanessy looked dreamy and preoccupied.

‘Oh, wow!’ Liz’s shout made Seanessy jump. She was looking excitedly through her binoculars. ‘I think I’ve just seen a whale out in the bay! Surely not.’

Seanessy took a look in the same general direction, just as the creature ejected a telltale plume of water from its blowhole hole. ‘A minke whale, if I’m not mistaken. They’re the most common here, though we occasionally get others. I’ve seen a couple of orcas, but that was further out, from a boat.’