The Innocent and the Dead Read online

  Chapter Ten

  By the afternoon, Samantha had started to worry. She’d had an uncomfortable night and slept fitfully. Pete had come into the basement at ten the previous night, unrolled the mattress and freed her hands, then helped her to the makeshift bed.

  ‘Sorry to keep your feet tied,’ he’d said. ‘My mate wants it that way.’

  At 8am he had entered the basement again and helped her back to the chair. He’d brought her breakfast with him – bacon and eggs, and a mug of tea.

  He had remained in the room afterward, and when she finished, he’d gestured towards the curtain. ‘You don’t… you know, need to go?’ he’d said.

  Samantha had shaken her head. ‘I used the facilities earlier, just after seven.’

  Pete had nodded and walked over, then re-bound and re-gagged her. Before leaving, he had gestured towards the door. ‘Dinnae worry,’ he’d said. ‘My mate will be leaving soon to pick up the cash. He should be back by two, you’ll be freed then.’

  * * *

  Samantha glanced at her watch and saw it was 2.30pm. Pete hadn’t returned, nor had the other man. She expected to have been released by now.

  The sound of footsteps in the corridor jolted her from her reverie, then the door opened and Pete’s partner entered the room.

  He walked over and removed her gag, then said, ‘I’ve had quite a day, thanks to your old man.’

  Samantha gave him an earnest look. ‘He gave you your money?’

  ‘No, sweetie, he didn’t.’

  ‘I don’t understand,’ Samantha said.

  ‘The money bag,’ the man said. ‘It was bugged. The police had the bank put a tracker inside.’

  ‘If my father gave his word, he wouldn’t go back on it,’ Samantha said. ‘It’s been done without his knowledge.’

  He shook his head. ‘So your dad tells me.’

  Samantha said, ‘You’ve spoken to him?’

  The man nodded. ‘Oh, yes,’ he said. ‘Your father and I had a good old chat.’

  ‘Then you must realise he told you the truth?’

  The man drew the hunting knife from his waistband and pointed it in her direction. ‘He convinced me enough to give him the benefit of the doubt, if that’s what you mean,’ he said.

  Samantha nodded to the knife. ‘Please,’ she said. ‘Stop waving that thing in my face.’

  The man gave a little laugh and returned the knife to its sheath. ‘You don’t scare easy, do you, sweetie?’ he said.

  Samantha shook her head. ‘Of course I’m scared,’ she said.

  ‘You’ve every reason to be,’ the man said. ‘I’m meeting your old man again tomorrow morning to pick up the bag, this time sans tracker. Which means you’ll be my guest for another night. You’d better pray he doesn’t fuck up a second time.’

  * * *

  The Allanbreck Home lay at the end of a long driveway in the shadow of the Pentland Hills at Fairmilehead on Edinburgh’s southern periphery.

  Knox drove his car to an adjacent car park, then he and Fulton walked to the entrance, a large oak door flanked by two Doric columns. Knox pressed the bell and moments later the door was opened by a severe-looking older woman wearing a wrap-around pinafore.

  Knox showed her his warrant card, then said, ‘Detective–’

  ‘I know who you are,’ she interrupted. ‘Mr Connelly said to expect you.’

  Knox said, ‘Ah yes, we phoned. He told us to come up.’

  ‘Come away in, then,’ the woman said. ‘I’ll let him know you’re here.’

  She escorted the officers into a large hallway, then went to a door in the corner. ‘He’s in the kitchen. I’ll let him know you’re here.’

  Knox and Fulton took in their surroundings. The walls were wood-panelled, the floor marble, and a balustraded stairway led to the floors above.

  ‘This place reminds me of Shaws,’ Fulton said. ‘You know, the house in Robert Louis Stevenson’s Kidnapped. Belonged to Davie Balfour’s uncle.’

  ‘Not quite as dilapidated, I hope,’ a voice said. ‘It’s late Scottish Baronial actually, 1891. You’re right about the Stevenson connection, though. The house was named for Alan Breck, one of the novel’s main characters.’

  Knox and Fulton turned and saw the speaker was a ruddy-faced man in his early fifties. He had entered the hallway by the door the woman had exited moments before.

  He walked over and extended his hand. ‘Gavin Connelly,’ he said. ‘I’m superintendent of Allanbreck Home.’

  They shook hands, then Connelly gestured a door on their right. ‘This is my office,’ he said, then showed them inside and nodded at a couple of chairs at the front of a desk.

  When Knox and Fulton were seated, Connelly took a chair behind the desk and said, ‘I saw the report of Patti McCormack’s murder on television. Terrible business.’ He tapped a folder in front of him and added, ‘I took the liberty of looking at her file.’

  ‘You were superintendent when Patti stayed here?’

  ‘Yes, I’ve held the post since 2010,’ Connelly said. He opened the folder, glanced at the first page and continued, ‘She arrived in 2002, Patti Butler then. Took her foster parents’ name when she left in 2013.’

  ‘You remember her well?’ Knox said.

  Connelly nodded. ‘Yes, quite well.’

  ‘The McCormacks told us she had a difficult childhood?’ Knox said.

  Connelly glanced at the file, then turned a few pages. ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘Patti was a bit of a problem child, particularly when she first arrived. Temper tantrums, fighting with other kids, disobeying staff, that sort of thing.’ He tapped the folder again. ‘Before my time, of course. But it’s all in here.’

  ‘She’d be what, eleven or so when you took over?’ Knox said. ‘What was she like then?’

  ‘I think she’d improved,’ Connelly said. ‘Less fractious, more settled.’

  Knox nodded. ‘What was your own relationship with her like?’

  ‘Okay for the most part,’ Connelly said. ‘If anything, I found her a bit shy, quiet. She wasn’t a great mixer, didn’t get involved much in group activities and such.’

  ‘What about friends,’ Knox said. ‘Was there anyone she was close to?’

  ‘Now that you mention it, yes, there was a boy. A year older – that would be nearer to the time she left, when she was thirteen.’

  ‘This boy,’ Fulton said. ‘You have his name?’

  Connelly furrowed his brow. ‘Adrian, Andrew… wait a minute and I’ll make sure.’

  He rose, went to a filing cabinet and began riffling through the files in the top drawer, then closed it and repeated the process with the one below. ‘Ah, here it is,’ he said, returning to his desk with another folder.

  He flipped it to the first page, then said, ‘I was right the first time. Adrian Miller. Came to us in 2005, left in 2012, aged fourteen.’ He ran a finger down the page and continued, ‘Fostered by a Dr Julian Black and his wife Anthea in October that year. Their address is 121 Redford Green, Colinton, Edinburgh.’

  ‘When you say they were close,’ Knox said. ‘How close do you mean?’

  ‘I’m not sure,’ Connelly said. ‘But she did appear smitten by him, and he with her.’

  ‘They were always friendly?’ Knox said. ‘They never argued?’

  Connelly pursed his lip, then said, ‘I see what you mean. You think their relationship may have continued beyond the home? That Miller may be implicated in her murder?’

  ‘No, Mr Connelly,’ Knox said. ‘I’m asking if you witnessed any arguments between them.’

  Connelly nodded. ‘As a matter of fact, I did once,’ he said. ‘Shortly before Patti left us. I happened on them arguing in the garden one afternoon. It appeared quite heated. I heard Adrian say to her, “If you tell anyone about this, I’ll kill you”.’

  ‘Do you know what he was referring to?’ Knox said.

  Connelly shook his head. ‘I don’t,’ he said. ‘But it was apparent from the look on his face,
he was deadly serious.’

  Chapter Eleven

  Mason and Hathaway were relieved at six by DS Aidan Edwards and DC Roy Cummings. Edwards gestured to the Balmoral. ‘Anything happening?’ he said. ‘Tavener hasn’t moved?’

  ‘No,’ Mason said. ‘I don’t think he intends going anywhere tonight.’

  ‘The hotel,’ Cummings said, pointing to the main entrance. ‘This is the only exit?’

  ‘For guests, yes,’ Mason replied. ‘DC Hathaway had a discreet word with the doorman. There are two others. One on the Waverley Steps and one on the North Bridge. Both are used by staff.’

  * * *

  ‘You know, I’ve been thinking,’ Hathaway said on the drive back to Gayfield Square. ‘If the kidnapper used Samantha’s mobile to call Tavener this afternoon, we could get DirectFone to tell us where the calls originate.’

  ‘Doesn’t help us much now,’ Mason said.

  ‘Yeah,’ Hathaway said. ‘But what if he sets up another meet for tomorrow, then calls from where she’s being held?’

  Mason nodded. ‘It’s possible,’ she said. ‘But if he had enough nous to suss the tracker, wouldn’t he realise we might run a trace?’

  Hathaway said, ‘Well, he’s already used it once. Might do so again. Villains get careless.’

  ‘Hmm,’ Mason said. ‘Could be worth a try. I–’ Her mobile phone rang, then she glanced at the screen and saw it was Knox.

  ‘Hello, boss,’ she said.

  ‘Yvonne,’ Knox said. ‘The Tulliallan boys relieve you on time?’

  ‘Yes, boss. Six on the nail.’

  ‘Tavener stayed in the hotel?’

  ‘Yes. Never moved.’

  ‘I thought as much,’ Knox said. ‘I think it likely another meet will be set up for tomorrow. You’re both back at the station?’

  ‘Just driving down Leith Street, we’ll be there in a minute,’ she said. ‘Any joy with the McCormack case?’

  ‘Not yet,’ Knox said. ‘We’ve interviewed the girl’s foster parents, the supervisor of the home where she was brought up, and a young lad who knew her.’

  ‘Nothing?’

  ‘Not so far. There’s still the possessions that were found with her, of course, and some DNA.’ Knox paused and added, ‘Oh, Yvonne …’

  ‘Boss?’

  ‘DI Murray was going to stop by the station this afternoon with her handbag. Will you see if it’s there when you get back? Give me a ring to confirm?’

  ‘Sure, boss.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Knox said. ‘You and Mark can knock off then. I’d like you both back at the Balmoral at 6am to take over from the second pair of Tulliallan men who’re working midnight to six. I think Tavener will have arranged an early rendezvous.’

  ‘Okay, boss,’ Mason said, then added, ‘Oh, before you go–’

  ‘Aye?’

  ‘Mark reckons there’s a possibility the kidnapper will continue using Samantha’s mobile, that we might get a lead on where she’s being held. He’d like to ask DirectFone to monitor.’

  ‘Good idea, Yvonne,’ Knox said. ‘Tell him to go ahead.’

  * * *

  Knox had driven from Fairmilehead to Colinton in just under ten minutes. 121 Redford Green was a large pebble-dashed bungalow at the far end of a quiet cul-de-sac. As Knox and Fulton left the car, they were met at the gate by Dr Julian Black, a patrician-looking man in his late forties.

  Knox extended his hand. ‘Thanks for seeing us at such short notice, Dr Black,’ he said, then nodded to Fulton. ‘My colleague and I were up at Fairmilehead when I rang.’

  Dr Black had a rake in his hand. ‘I was doing a bit of gardening when you phoned,’ he said. ‘Didn’t expect you quite so soon.’

  He escorted the detectives to the house and entered the sitting room, where a slim, attractive woman was waiting. ‘This is my wife, Anthea,’ Black said, then gestured to the officers. ‘Anthea, this is Detective Inspector Knox and–’ he glanced at Fulton and hesitated, ‘–sorry, I’ve forgotten your name.’

  ‘Detective Sergeant Fulton,’ Knox said.

  ‘Ah, yes.’

  ‘Pleased to meet you both,’ Mrs Black said. ‘Julian tells me you want to see us about Adrian?’

  ‘Yes, Mrs Black,’ Knox said. ‘We’d like to ask him about Patti McCormack, they were domiciled at the Allanbreck Home around the same time.’

  ‘McCormack,’ Mrs Black said. ‘The girl found at Portobello?’

  ‘Yes,’ Knox said.

  ‘I see,’ Mrs Black said, then turned to her husband. ‘You explained to the policemen Adrian wasn’t at home?’

  Dr Black nodded, then looked at his watch. ‘I told the officers he should be back shortly. He phoned when he left college half an hour ago.’

  ‘Oh,’ Mrs Black said. Then, turning to Knox, she added, ‘He’s studying architecture at Edinburgh University.’

  ‘I see,’ Knox said.

  ‘The superintendent at Allanbreck told you we adopted Adrian?’ Dr Black said.

  Knox shook his head. ‘No, he told me you were his foster parents.’

  ‘Initially we were,’ Mrs Black said. ‘We adopted him a year later, in 2013.’

  Fulton said, ‘Mr Connelly needs to update his records.’

  ‘Perhaps I’d better ask if we’ve our facts straight,’ Knox said. ‘Connelly told us you fostered Adrian in 2012. That he came to live with you then?’

  ‘Yes,’ Mrs Black said. ‘In September.’

  ‘What was he like then?’ Knox asked.

  ‘I’m not sure I understand,’ Mrs Black said.

  ‘What sort of personality, I mean,’ Knox said.

  ‘Oh, I see,’ Mrs Black said. ‘He was very reserved to begin with. Introspective. It took us a while to gain his trust.’

  Knox said, ‘Did he say anything about his experiences at the home?’

  ‘No,’ Dr Black said. ‘But I know for a fact he wasn’t happy there.’

  ‘Oh,’ Knox said. ‘What makes you say that?’

  ‘He’s never discussed it with us.’

  ‘We’ve tried to get him to,’ Mrs Black said. ‘But even thinking about it appears to have a negative effect on him. So, we never bring it up now.’

  ‘Mr Connelly told us at one point Adrian was close to Ms McCormack,’ Knox said. ‘He never speaks of her either?’

  ‘No, I wasn’t aware of that,’ Mrs Black said. ‘That’s why you want to talk to him? Mr Connelly told you Ms McCormack and Adrian had some sort of relationship?’

  ‘Yes,’ Knox said. ‘He said they were very close at one point.’

  ‘Really,’ Mrs Black said. ‘How close? Did he elaborate?’

  ‘No,’ Knox said. ‘Just that they spent a lot of time together.’

  Knox had just spoken when they heard a car door closing, and moments later a young man entered the room. He was tall, fair-haired and had acne. He glanced at the detectives, and Knox saw a hint of panic in his face.

  ‘Adrian, dear,’ Mrs Black said, indicating Knox and Fulton, ‘these men are police officers. They’d like to ask you about the girl found at Portobello. She was at Allanbreck at the same time you were.’

  Adrian’s face turned sullen. ‘What girl?’ he said.

  ‘Patti McCormack,’ Knox said. ‘Mr Connelly said you knew her.’

  ‘Yes, I remember her,’ Adrian replied. ‘What about it?’

  ‘I’m sorry to say she’s been found dead in Figgate Park in Portobello,’ Knox said. ‘We’ve reason to believe she was murdered.’

  Adrian appeared shocked. ‘Patti?’ he said.

  Knox said, ‘Yes. Connelly told us you and she were close friends at Allanbreck.’

  Adrian remained silent for a long moment, then said, ‘We were close friends, yes. I got on with Patti more than anyone else.’

  ‘Did you ever fall out with her at any point,’ Knox said. ‘Have an argument?’

  Adrian gave Knox an angry look. ‘You’ve spoken to Connelly?’ he said. ‘He told you that?’

>   Knox nodded. ‘As a matter of fact, he did. He says he witnessed you threatening Patti.’

  ‘Wait a moment, Detective Inspector,’ Dr Black said. ‘Are you suggesting Adrian had something to do with Ms McCormack’s murder?’

  Knox shook his head. ‘No, sir, I’m not,’ he said. ‘Mr Connelly made a statement to us that he witnessed Adrian making a threat during an argument with Patti in 2012. I’m just asking if the superintendent’s statement is true.’

  ‘Surely that’s preposterous,’ Mrs Black said. ‘How can a couple of young teenagers having a difference of opinion six years ago have any bearing on what’s happened to Ms McCormack today?’

  ‘I’m sorry, Mrs Black,’ Knox said. ‘But I have to ask. I want to establish the veracity of Mr Connelly’s claim.’

  ‘Which is?’ Dr Black said. ‘And I’d appreciate if you’d quote it verbatim.’

  Knox said, ‘He told us he walked into the garden and discovered Adrian and Patti arguing. He claims Adrian said to Patti, “If you tell anyone about this, I’ll kill you”.’

  Dr Black turned to his son and said, ‘Adrian?’

  Adrian looked at Knox and shook his head. ‘He’s lying,’ he said, then turned to his parents and added, ‘I’m going to my room.’

  After he left, Dr Black said, ‘I think you have your answer, Detective Inspector. I’m afraid if you want to speak to Adrian again, I’ll insist on our solicitor being present.’

  * * *

  When Mason returned to Gayfield Square with Hathaway, her colleague called DirectFone, who agreed to have a technician place an immediate trace on Samantha’s mobile and report all activity.

  After she checked that DI Murray had left Patti’s handbag on Knox’s desk, Mason took her iPhone from her pocket and dialled Knox’s number.

  A moment or two later, he answered, ‘Yvonne?’

  ‘DI Murray’s left the handbag, together with a note,’ she said.

  ‘You’re still in the office?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Bill’s away to pick up his car. I’m going to look in on the Tulliallan lads at the Balmoral before I call it a day and head home. Will you read me the note before you go?’

  Mason flattened the paper on his desk. ‘Okay,’ she said. ‘It says: “No prints on the handbag. Contents include a bankbook which may prove interesting. I picked up Patti’s laptop from the McCormacks and will check it over and report tomorrow – cheers, Ed”.’