Against a Dark Sky (17 page)

Chapter Thirty Seven

B
evan slipped into the seat next to DCs Reid and Kendal, pulling across one of the laptops and logging on. ‘How are you progressing with the CCTV?’ She asked, keeping her eyes on the screen.

              ‘It looks as if pretty much the entire male population of Ardyle were in the Rob Roy on Friday night and half of the females too. There was a big Rangers’ match on.’ DC Reid sighed.

              ‘Just make a note of the names Detective, then we’ll pass them onto Crieff.’

              ‘For the record Ma’am,’ DC Kendal chipped in, ‘I never heard DC Calder mouthing off about the Hutchisons in the pub. I was with him for most of the night.’

              ‘Thank you Ian, I’ll tell Andy that. He’ll appreciate it.’

              Dani focused her attention towards the search engines of the Police Scotland database. No one by the name of Kathleen Harris appeared on their system. She tried the drivers’ file first and then the property file. Neither made reference to a Kathleen Harris matching the age that the girl would be now.
Crimint
and
Holmes 2
also drew a blank, which Bevan was expecting. She didn’t imagine the woman had any criminal convictions. At some point, Kathleen must have got married and changed her surname. Bevan would have to search the genealogy sites to find out any more.

              She turned towards Reid. ‘Do you recall a girl by the name of Kathleen Harris? According to Jack Ford, she was a trainee teacher assisting the staff out on Ben Lomond when the children went missing.’

              Reid stopped what he was doing and considered this for a moment. ‘I’m sorry, Ma’am. The name doesn’t ring a bell. She can’t have been at the school for very long. I was only in the infants back then. I’m not really sure that I would have remembered.’

              ‘Of course, not to worry. I’ll put someone on the task of checking her out properly.’

              ‘I’ll do it, Ma’am,’ Kendal announced. ‘We’re just about done here.’

Bevan returned to the hotel for dinner. Andy Calder wanted to stay on and assist DC Clark to plough through the mammoth list of Scottish motorists they had identified as having entered London in the days before Batra’s murder. Dani hoped Andy wasn’t beating himself up too much. Tomorrow she would order him to slow down.

              The Hutchisons were seated by the window. Dani was hoping she might see them. It looked as if they’d only just ordered. ‘May I join you?’

              ‘Of course.’ Bill stood up and made a space for Dani at the table.

              ‘Any news on the flowers, Detective Chief Inspector?’ Joy enquired, as soon as Bevan had sat down.

              ‘Not yet I’m afraid,’ Dani smiled to herself. ‘It takes a few days at least to get any results back from the forensic lab in Glasgow.’

              While Dani relayed her order to the waitress, Bill poured her a glass of red wine.

              ‘Just a small one, please,’ she said with haste.

              The man nodded knowingly.              

              ‘I paid a visit to Jack Ford this morning.’

              ‘Oh. How is he?’ Joy asked politely.

              ‘He seemed very well. The man is extremely fit for his age.’

              ‘Jack still walks regularly, I hear. He’s also been doing up that old house. Keeping himself busy I expect,’ Bill commented.

              ‘Jack’s been on his own since Mary passed away,’ Joy added. ‘It can’t be easy for him.’

              ‘The Fords had a son and daughter though, didn’t they?’ Dani sipped her wine.

              ‘Yes, Jenny was a lovely girl. Michael was similar to his father, quiet and sensitive, but he was a good lad just the same. I think that Jack and Mary struggled to get over the schoolchildren’s deaths - a bit like us, really.’ Joy looked thoughtful.

              ‘When Mary Ford was diagnosed with cancer, she slipped away very quickly. Almost as if it was the excuse she’d been looking for to give up.’ Bill sat back to allow the waitress to set down their food.

              ‘It’s very sad,’ Dani said. ‘Jack suggested that he and his wife hadn’t got on very well with DI Sheldon.’

              ‘Ronnie was simply doing his job. He had to question the Fords a great deal in the aftermath of the tragedy. Understandably, the parents were very keen to find out exactly what had happened. Sadly, Jack was the only one who could really tell us. It put the couple under a considerable amount of strain, I believe.’

              ‘But Jack said there was somebody else out on the hillside with him. A young student teacher called Kathleen Harris?’ Dani leaned forward, putting down her knife and fork.

              ‘From what I can recall, Kathleen wasn’t more than a child herself. She was 18 years old and young-looking with it. The girl helped the investigation as much as she was able. Ronnie took a statement from her at the time.’

              ‘Do you know what became of Miss Harris? Jack thought her parents might have been friends of Samuel McAlister.’

              Joy crinkled up her face in concentration. ‘I believe she left Ardyle soon after. The girl must have been traumatised, poor lamb. The McAlisters knew a lot of the local families. They were on the dinner-party circuit. It wouldn’t surprise me if that’s how she’d got the placement.’

              Dani decided to end their discussion and concentrate on the food instead, which was lovely. She allowed Bill to top up her glass just a little and when Dani returned to her room an hour later, she felt relaxed and contented.

              It wasn’t late, so Dani kicked off her shoes and lay back on the bed, flicking through the television channels. She tutted loudly as the mobile phone next to her started to vibrate. It was an unknown number.

              ‘Hello, DCI Bevan.’

              ‘Hi, Dani? It’s Sally Irving-Bryant here. Sorry to bother you in the evening. James gave me your number. I hope you don’t mind.’

              ‘Not at all, how can I help?’ Dani sat up straight at the sound of the woman’s commanding voice.

              ‘When I came to see you in Ardyle the other day, I saw a man walking across the market square that I recognised. It took me a few days to place him, but when I did, I checked back through some of my old case files. I thought I’d better let you know what it threw up.’

              ‘Yes, I’d like to hear it.’ Dani felt her heart beat faster.

              ‘This chap was a witness for the prosecution in a case I was defending about ten years ago, before I made silk. The defendant was a fairly unpleasant fellow, with a record of misdemeanours as long as your arm. On this occasion, he was accused of having grabbed a young girl outside a newsagent and then trying to bundle her into a van. Compared to the guy’s previous record of petty thieving, it seemed a bit out of character. The girl was too upset to testify, so the entire case revolved around the evidence of this one witness. He stood up in court and described how my client had offered the girl sweets. When she refused one, he’d taken her roughly by the arm. The girl began to struggle with him and our witness ran over to intervene. At this point, the witness claimed my client was dragging the child towards the back of his van. As the witness approached, the defendant took off, jumping into his vehicle and speeding away. The witness wrote down the registration number, reported the incident to the police, and the court case duly followed.’

              ‘It sounds as if this chap was acting as a good, responsible citizen. What’s the problem?’

              ‘Well, as was my job, I looked into this chap’s background. It turned out the man had been receiving psychological treatment for some months. At one stage, he’d needed to be sectioned. When I challenged him on this in open court, he broke down admitting he’d made the whole thing up.               Apparently, he’d lost his son several years before, suffering a series of nervous breakdowns since. Taking this into account, the Judge recommended the issuing of a police caution and that the man should cover the court fees. He was not prosecuted for perjury. For some reason, the case has always stuck in my mind, probably because the chap was so believable.’

              ‘What was the name of the witness?’

              ‘William Harold Hutchison,’ Sally said.

              ‘But what about the little girl?
Something
must have happened outside the shop.’

              ‘The girl eventually admitted that she’d stolen a packet of sweets from the newsagent. My client had been having a cigarette outside and saw her do it. His brother-in-law was the manager of the place, so he reached over to take them off her as she ran out of the door. This is what Hutchison had witnessed. To his addled brain, it was some kind of abduction attempt. The stuff about him dragging her towards a van was pure fantasy. I’ll fax you through the details.’

              ‘Thank you Sally. That would be helpful.’

              The woman grunted an acknowledgement and promptly ended the call.

              Dani lay back, with the mobile resting on her stomach. ‘Oh Bill,’ she lamented quietly. ‘What on earth have you done?’

Chapter Thirty Eight

B
evan had an early night and slipped out of the Carraig Hotel at the crack of dawn, hoping to avoid the Hutchisons. It was a drizzly, dull morning and the detective stopped at the Wallaces’ café to buy herself a cappuccino and a Danish. She needed cheering up after last night’s revelation.

              Dani felt desperately sorry for Bill. She genuinely liked him, but was now unsure if anything the man had ever said was true. To her surprise, Andy Calder and Rick Clark were already at the Town Hall when she arrived.

              ‘Don’t tell me you two pulled an all-nighter on that traffic evidence?’ Dani was incredulous.

              Andy chuckled. ‘No fear, Ma’am. Rick’s place is just around the corner, we worked late and Rick’s wife offered to make us dinner. I ended up staying over in their spare room. I hate hotels.’

              ‘I appreciate the hours that you’ve both put in. Have you come up with anything?’

              DC Clark approached his boss with a lengthy print-out. ‘We’ve got fifty names that fit the criteria we applied. They’re all men and women who drove from Scotland to London on the days in question, and have links either to Stirling or the Loch Lomond area. We’re currently trying to narrow it down even further.’

              ‘Can I have a look?’ Dani laid the papers out flat on the table and scanned the list. A name struck her as familiar. She tapped her finger on the page. ‘This one, Micky Ford, what do we know about him?’

              Clark went back to find his notes. ‘Okay, Michael Alan Ford, 44 years old and a delivery van driver from Crianlarich. He had a legitimate reason to be visiting London. He had a consignment of electrical goods for a warehouse in Docklands, his employers verified his movements. The van’s got GPS tracking. I was about to remove his name from the list.’

              ‘Well don’t for the time being. Unless I’m mistaken, this man is Jack Ford’s son – the teacher in charge of the kids who died in the Ardyle tragedy. Have we got an address for him?’

              ‘Aye, it’s here somewhere.’

              ‘Right, Andy and I will pay him a visit.’

Crianlarich was an attractive village six miles north-east of the head of Loch Lomond. The drive was a stunning one, taking them past a number of impressive Munro peaks.

              ‘This place must be heaven for hillwalkers,’ Andy commented cheerfully, as they navigated their way through the narrow streets.

              ‘Dad and I stayed here for a night when we walked the West Highland Way. It’s really geared up for tourists.’

              The address they were looking for was up a farm track a mile or so outside of the village. Micky Ford’s place was a cottage set on the edge of what looked like a large estate. Snow-capped hills flanked them on three sides and a gang of floppy-haired Highland cattle eyed the detectives with blatant hostility from the adjacent field. The stone building was white-washed and had newly fitted windows. Bevan noticed a spiral of smoke escaping from the chimney. An unmarked grey van sat on the driveway. ‘I think he’s in,’ she remarked.

              Andy hammered on the door. The man who answered was a younger version of Jack Ford, except with a thicker set frame. His upper body bulk was accentuated by the cable-knit sweater he was wearing. Muddy walking boots sat on the doorstep and Micky stood in the hallway in his socks.

              ‘What do you want?’ He growled.

              Andy produced his warrant card. ‘We’re from Strathclyde Police. Could we have a word?’

              ‘I suppose so, come in.’

              The man shuffled into the sitting room. It was dark except for the light being produced by a fire in the open grate. Micky switched on a table lamp, which didn’t do much to alleviate the gloom.

              The room was messy, with magazines and books piled up in corners. It smelt of mildew and wet-dog. ‘Can I make you a cuppa?’ He said.

              Dani swiftly refused, before Andy had a chance to agree.

              ‘Sit down, Mr Ford. We need to ask you a few questions.’

              The man lowered himself onto the arm of the tatty sofa. ‘I’m not sure what this is all about.’

              Andy made a point of flipping through his notebook. ‘You made a delivery of electrical equipment to a warehouse in Docklands, East London, on the 24
th
of this month, is that correct?’

              ‘Yes. I do that trip every six weeks. My boss has got all my receipts from the journey.’

              ‘Did you stay in London overnight?’

              ‘Of course. I’ve got a mate in East Ham I always bunk down with. He’s called Jimmy Cavanagh. I can give you his number if you want?’

              Dani noted how helpful the man was being.

              ‘And what time did you get to Mr Cavanagh’s house on the 24
th
?’

              Micky thought about this. ‘About five o’clock. Jim was only just back from work. After we’d both had a wash, we went down to The Rising Sun on the High Street. We stayed there ‘till closing and picked up a pie and chips on the way home.’ 

              ‘Did you spend the entire night at your friend’s house?’

              Micky looked bemused. ‘Of course I did. I was bloody knackered after driving all the way down from Scotland. I did’ne go dancin’!’ The man laughed. ‘Now, what’s this all about, eh?’

              ‘Do you live here alone, Mr Ford?’ Dani asked.

              ‘Aye, I’ve never married. Not a law against it that I know of,’ he attempted a smile but it appeared forced.

              ‘But you grew up in Ardyle,’ she stated.

              Micky’s expression darkened. ‘Aye,’ he said warily. ‘What’s that got to do with anything?’ 

              ‘Do you know a man called Amit Batra?’ Andy chipped in. Worried the interview might get side-tracked.

              ‘Nope. Indian chap, is he? There’s plenty of them in East Ham. Both of Jimmy’s neighbours are from Bangladesh. Quiet folk.’ Micky crossed his arms.

              ‘Mr Batra lived in Loughton, A few miles away from East Ham. He’s dead now though. His house was broken into in the early hours of the 25
th
October. The man was battered to death while his wife and children were hiding upstairs.’ Andy allowed his words to settle between them.

              ‘What the hell has that got to do wi’ me?’ Micky seemed genuinely shocked.

              ‘Mr Batra had been involved in an incident not far from here, a few days before he was murdered. He was part of a group of climbers who became lost on Ben Lomond in bad weather. Batra was rescued, but the other two were found dead. You must have heard about it? Your father took part in the search.’

              Dani watched the man closely.

              ‘Yes, I did hear about it, but I’m not likely to remember their names, am I?’

              ‘It just seems a coincidence, Mr Ford, that you were travelling to London on the same day that Mr Batra was killed.’

              Micky leant forward. ‘Well the last I heard, a man couldn’t be arrested because of a coincidence.’

              ‘You’re absolutely correct. But if you could just give us the name and address of Mr Cavanagh, we’ll have a word with him to double-check that’s where you were.’

              Micky walked over to a cabinet which sat against an exposed stone wall. He opened a drawer and retrieved an address book. He began to copy out the details onto a scrap of paper. ‘You know my van has built in GPS? If you check with my boss, he’ll be able to tell you exactly where I was during that trip. It sends me spare most of the time. It’s like travelling with big brother.’

              ‘Oh, we’ve already done that, thank you. But it was extremely thoughtful of you to point it out.’ Bevan gave the man a broad smile, plucking the address from his hand and leading Andy Calder out of the front door.