A blind eye, p.1
A Blind Eye, page 1
A Blind Eye
Cover
Title Page
Dedication
Day 1: Tuesday, 4th April
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Day 2: Wednesday, 5th April
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Day 3: Thursday, 6th April
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Day 4: Friday, 7th April
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Day 5: Saturday 8th April
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Day 6: Sunday, 9th April
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Day 7: Monday, 10th April
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Day 8: Tuesday, 11th April
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Day 9: Wednesday, 12th April
Chapter 52
Fifteen months later
Acknowledgements
Canelo Crime
About the Author
Also by Marion Todd
Copyright
Cover
Table of Contents
Start of Content
For June, my oldest and most wonderful friend
Even though she made me late for school, almost every single day!
Day 1: Tuesday, 4th April
Chapter 1
Detective Inspector Clare Mackay looked round the hall. It was an attractive room, the light oak panelling as far from her own inner-city school as she could imagine. Towards the back of the hall was an impressive honours board next to a bank of framed photos showing the senior teaching team. Immediately beneath the stage a grand piano stood, its black polished wood gleaming in the sun that streamed through the casement windows. Yes, she thought. It’s a lovely building. That, of course, didn’t always make for a happy, accepting environment… but it probably helped.
She drew her eyes away from the room and scanned the rows of pupils. They’d been a more attentive audience than at the last school. No fiddling with phones from this lot. Not with the head teacher’s beady eye on them. But the air of disinterest was palpable. One or two cast glances at their wrists and she took the hint. They’d been sitting long enough.
‘PC Stapleton and I will be here for a bit longer so if any of you are considering a career in the police…’ she tailed off and turned to the head teacher who moved forward.
‘Room five,’ the head teacher said crisply. ‘Please allow us to leave first then anyone who wishes to speak to the officers should wait outside the door.’ She moved to the steps at the side of the stage, and they followed her down and out of the hall. As they left a murmur of chatter began to build.
‘They were very attentive,’ Clare said as the head teacher opened the door to a small room, flicking on the light. It was cheerfully decorated with two small sofas arranged either side of a light oak coffee table.
‘We do insist on good manners at Melville Academy,’ the head said. She turned to Clare and Sara, her hand indicating the room. ‘Will this be suitable? We use it to meet with parents.’
‘Perfectly.’
The head smiled. ‘Lunch is in half an hour. If you think you’ll be any longer…’
‘Half an hour’s fine,’ Clare said. ‘We can always follow up any interest later. And if you could just leave the door open.’
The head teacher raised an eyebrow at this then swept from the room, her black gown flying in her wake.
‘I can’t see any of them being interested,’ Sara said. ‘They’ll all be off to university or having gap years at Daddy’s expense.’
Clare nodded. ‘You’re probably right. But it’s worth a shot. We need a broad spectrum these days.’
A girl of about sixteen appeared at the door. She raised her hand to knock and let it fall. Then she turned to leave, and Clare moved forward.
‘Hello,’ she said. ‘Please – come in. We could do with seeing a friendly face.’ She smiled at the girl who remained in the doorway as if deciding whether or not to enter. She was slightly built, her fine blonde hair scraped back in a tight ponytail. Her face was pallid, the only adornment a tiny pair of gold studs in her ears and Clare wondered if there was a school rule banning make-up. The girl had a ghost-like quality and seemed on the point of flight when Sara held out a hand.
‘I’m Sara,’ she said. ‘Sara Stapleton. One of the officers at St Andrews. Please,’ she indicated the low sofas, ‘have a seat.’
The girl came slowly into the room and glanced over her shoulder. Sara steered her gently towards the sofas, but the girl’s eyes were trained on the door.
‘I’ll just shut this,’ Clare said, closing the door quietly. As she did so she thought she saw another girl step quickly back. ‘Is your friend waiting for you?’
The girl edged towards the door. ‘Maybe. I should go…’
‘Are you interested in joining the police?’ Sara said, trying to distract her from looking at the door.
Clare joined Sara on the sofa and gave the girl a smile. ‘I’m Clare,’ she said. ‘I’m the DI at St Andrews. But we don’t know your name.’
‘Eilidh.’ Her voice was little more than a whisper. ‘Eilidh Campbell.’
‘Nice to meet you, Eilidh. Why not sit for a moment?’
The girl hesitated then sat down, perching on the edge of the other sofa.
Clare smiled. ‘If you are interested in the police as a career we can give you some leaflets, tell you a bit about the job. Maybe arrange a visit to the station.’
She shook her head. ‘No,’ she said. ‘It’s not that.’
Clare sat forward. ‘Is there something worrying you?’
Eilidh looked down, fiddling with the cuff of her navy cardigan. ‘I’m not sure.’
Sara opened her mouth to speak but Clare made a slight gesture with her hand and Sara took the hint. Eventually the girl spoke again.
‘If I knew something – I mean something that wasn’t right, and you found out—’
Clare met her eye. ‘Eilidh, have you witnessed a crime?’
She hesitated. ‘Not exactly. I just wondered – if I knew something and I didn’t tell anyone—’
‘Failing to report a crime isn’t an offence,’ Clare said. ‘You wouldn’t be charged or anything like that. If you do know something, it’s best to tell us. But we’d need an appropriate adult to be with you for your statement.’
The girl rose, avoiding Clare’s eye. ‘No, it’s nothing like that. I don’t know anything. I just wondered—’ And before Clare could stop her, she’d opened the door and was gone. Clare followed her out, but Eilidh was down the corridor and out of sight in seconds. She turned back to Sara.
‘What was that about?’
Sara shrugged. ‘Maybe friends doing drugs, bit of shoplifting.’
Clare frowned. ‘I’m not sure. Stuff like that doesn’t normally bother kids her age; and I think she was worried about being overheard.’ There was a tap at the door and a tall red-haired girl appeared.
‘Can I take one of your leaflets?’ she said. ‘My brother – he fancies the police.’
* * *
They waited another twenty minutes then Clare scooped up their leaflets. ‘Come on,’ she said to Sara. ‘Let’s get back to the station.’ They made their way to the reception desk and waited while a dark-haired girl in uniform signed herself out. Clare wondered briefly if she’d been the girl hanging around when Eilidh had come into the room, but it was impossible to tell. All she’d seen was a flash of dark hair and, from what she recalled, half the sixth form had dark hair. She thanked the receptionist and they emerged into the sunshine. As they crossed the car park, they saw the girl walk smartly towards a black BMW saloon. There was something in her manner – the way she moved – that made Clare watch her. She was of average height, thick dark hair and supremely confident, as though the world and all its glories had been arranged just for her. A man in dark glasses, his hair closely cropped, sat in the driver’s seat, elbow resting on the open window. He was clean shaven, his neck thick, reminding Clare more of a nightclub bouncer than a parent at this expensive school. But you couldn’t tell these days. Maybe he threw all his money at his daughter’s education. The car looked new, though, and the girl, while in uniform, had the air of money about her. The way her hair hung, thick and well cut, her school bag with its Dr Martens logo, the glimpse of a pink smart watch. Top of the range, she’d bet. Yes, whoever this parent was, he had money all right.
The girl walked round to the passenger door without acknowledging him. His glance strayed in Clare’s direction and she had the distinct impression she’d seen him before. As she watched he moved his elbow and the window slid noiselessly up. Seconds later the car drew out of the car park. And then, for no reason she could think of, she took out a notepad and jotted down the registration.
‘Boss?’
Clare tucked the pad back in her bag. ‘Dunno. Something about the driver. Something familiar.’ She searched her memory, but she couldn’t place him. ‘Never mind. Let’s get back. I’m dying for a mug of tea.’
Chapter 2
‘Missing person,’ Sergeant Jim Douglas said, as Clare and Sara entered the station.
‘Details?’
‘Solicitor. Harry Richards. Went to work as usual yesterday – didn’t come home last night.’
‘So, he’s been gone, what, twenty-four hours?’ Clare considered this. ‘It’s a bit early to say he’s missing. Anything else to suggest he’s at risk?’
‘Maybe. The wife thinks she was being stalked. And now he’s gone she’s convinced something’s happened to him.’
‘Hmm. Had she previously reported the stalking?’
Jim hesitated.
‘Jim?’
‘Robbie went round to see her. He thought maybe someone was planning a break-in so he gave the usual advice about varying their routine, leaving lights on etc.’
Clare looked at him. ‘A woman reports a possible stalker and he tells her to leave the lights on? What was he thinking?’
Jim shrugged. ‘I think he was chasing his tail. Too many calls.’
Clare exhaled audibly. ‘I’ll speak to him. Meantime, the missing man – I presume the wife’s tried phoning?’
‘Mobile rings out. And he’s not been seen at work since yesterday afternoon.’
‘Car?’
‘Plugged the reg into ANPR but nothing yet.’
Clare stood thinking. ‘Did she come here to report it?’
‘No. She phoned first thing. Thought I’d give it until this afternoon then send someone round.’ Jim sat back in his chair. ‘How did it go this morning?’
‘At the schools?’ Clare sank down beside him and rubbed the back of her neck. ‘Oh, I dunno. A few took leaflets but no one seemed that interested.’
‘Ah well. They maybe didn’t want to seem too keen in front of their friends. They might get in touch over the next few days.’
Clare got to her feet. ‘Hope so, otherwise my shiny new youth initiative will fall flat on its face.’
She left Jim to his paperwork and wandered through to the incident room, mulling this over. The initiative had come out of a conversation with the newly appointed superintendent, Penny Meakin. It was well known Penny expected her officers to come up with new ideas and the youth initiative had been Clare’s. So far she had nothing to show for it and she knew from experience Penny wouldn’t let it go.
Robbie was in a corner of the room, tapping away at a laptop. He looked up as she entered and forced a smile.
‘Boss?’
She sank down beside him. ‘You dealt with a woman who reported a stalker.’
He nodded but didn’t say anything, his eyes full of concern.
‘What made you think it wasn’t serious?’
He ran a tongue around his lips. ‘Erm, it just seemed more like a potential housebreaking. Him hanging about outside and so on.’
‘You didn’t think a woman concerned about a strange man warranted a bit more attention?’ Clare’s tone was sharper than she intended.
The colour rose in his cheeks. ‘Is something wrong? She’s not—’
‘No, she’s not. But her husband’s missing.’ Clare rose from her seat. ‘We’d just better hope he turns up safe and well; and next time, Robbie, see you take it a damn sight more seriously.’
He nodded and mumbled an apology, not meeting her eye, and she left him to it.
She fetched her lunch from the kitchen fridge and carried it through to her office. As she waited for her computer to come to life she bit into a sandwich, mulling over the missing person report. Was he even missing? Maybe he’d left his wife and hadn’t the courage to tell her. Or maybe he’d been on a bender and…
Her office door opened and Detective Sergeant Chris West ambled into the room and drew a chair across to the desk. ‘Buenos dias, Inspectora.’
She stared at him. ‘Eh?’
He rolled his eyes. ‘We’re learning Spanish.’
‘You and Sara?’
‘Yep. She says it’s rude to go to a country and expect everyone to speak English.’
‘You’ve booked the honeymoon, then?’
‘We have. Mexico. Two months tomorrow! Can’t wait.’
Clare regarded him. ‘You do know they speak Portuguese in Mexico?’
The colour drained from Chris’s face.
‘Just kidding.’
‘Idiota!’
She laughed. ‘I can guess what that means. So,’ her inbox began to load and she glanced at it, running her eye down the emails for anything urgent, ‘what you up to today?’
‘Oh, you know. Paperwork to catch up on.’ He leaned back and crossed one leg over the other. ‘Anyway, Sara says the school visits weren’t a roaring success.’
‘Not really. Except—’
‘Yeah?’
She sat back in her chair, drumming a pencil on her desk. ‘I’m not sure. There was one girl, at the last school – Melville Academy. She seemed a bit ill at ease. I had the feeling someone was waiting for her outside. She kept glancing at the door.’
‘So?’
‘I dunno, Chris. She asked if failing to report something was a crime.’
‘Report what?’
‘She wouldn’t say. But I think—’
Jim appeared at the door. ‘Just had a call about a car at Tentsmuir. Forestry lad found it parked in the trees. Engine cold. The windows are steamed up but he thinks there’s someone inside.’
Clare frowned. ‘Did he try knocking on the window?’
‘Aye. No response. Thing is, the car – it’s a blue Peugeot.’
‘And?’
‘Our missing solicitor drives a blue Peugeot.’
‘Got the reg?’
‘Checking it now.’
Clare followed Jim out to the front office and waited while Sara stood, phone clamped to her ear. Then Sara reached for a pen and began to write. She handed the paper to Jim who sat down at his keyboard. After a minute he exhaled and handed the paper to Clare. ‘It’s the solicitor’s car, right enough.’
‘Ask the forester if he’d be kind enough to stay with the car,’ Clare said to Sara. ‘Just until someone gets there. But tell him not to touch anything.’ She looked around the station. ‘Who else is in?’
‘Just Gillian and Robbie,’ Jim said.
‘Okay. The three of you head over there, Sara. Gloves, mask and overshoes in case there is someone inside. Call me when you know.’
‘You wanna head over to the wife?’ Chris said.
‘Let’s wait to see if he’s actually in the car, first.’ She checked the wall clock. ‘How long will it take them to get there?’
‘About half an hour.’
Clare thought for a moment. ‘Once it’s confirmed, we’ll see the wife. I take it the report’s on the system?’
Jim nodded. ‘Logged at nine this morning.’
Clare wandered back to her office, Chris in her wake. She shook the mouse and navigated to the missing person report. ‘Harry Richards,’ she read aloud. ‘Aged fifty-two – reported missing this morning by Louise Richards.’ She glanced up. ‘Wife, I presume?’
Chris shrugged. ‘Anything else?’
‘Seems there was someone hanging around the house. The wife reported it – last week, I think. Robbie attended.’
‘Looking for a chance to break in?’
‘That’s what he thought.’
‘Had she seen him anywhere else?’
Clare sat back and pushed the keyboard away. ‘Dunno. We’ll call round once we’ve heard from Sara. See what the wife can tell us.’
Chapter 3
‘Car was unlocked,’ Sara said.
‘And?’
‘It’s him, all right. Wallet in his jacket pocket. Money and cards still there. He’s dead, boss.’
‘Suicide?’
‘Definitely not.’
‘Tell me?’
Sara hesitated.
‘Sara?’
‘Throat’s been cut.’
Clare closed her eyes. The half-eaten sandwich was sitting heavily on her stomach now and she swallowed, trying not to imagine the scene in the car. Chris, sitting opposite munching a Wagon Wheel, raised an eyebrow. Clare opened her mouth to explain then she heard Sara’s voice again.
