Hold Hands in the Dark (16 page)

Chapter 39

I
t was the first time Andy had met Tony McRae’s widow. Although in her early fifties, the woman had a youthful and athletic appearance. The only sign of her age was the greying of her otherwise thick, dark hair at the fringe.

              Nancy opened the door to the officers with a smile. ‘Ah, DC Clifton. Come inside, please.’

              Andy pulled out his ID card and introduced himself.

              Their host was already preparing them drinks. ‘I know that the young DC takes coffee. How about you, love?’

              ‘I’ll have the same,’ Andy replied, suddenly feeling distinctly awkward about the nature of their visit.

              Nancy entered the front room a few moments later with their cups on a tray. ‘I’m glad you’ve dropped by.’ She placed the load down and offered around the milk and sugar. ‘I felt awful about how I’d ambushed you in the street the other day, DC Clifton. It was just that reading that article in the paper about Hemingway’s Shipyard had made me extremely upset. But I shouldn’t have taken it out on you, I’m sorry.’

              Dan mumbled some dismissive words into his coffee.

              Andy sat up straight, puffing out his chest. ‘Mrs McRae. There was an incident yesterday, in which two of our most senior officers experienced serious acts of vandalism on their property. DC Clifton informed us that he told you these two officers were responsible for halting the investigation into your husband’s accident. Do you know anything about these attacks?’

              Nancy looked genuinely shocked. ‘Good Lord, no. What on earth would such a mindless act of destruction achieve?’

              ‘Where were you yesterday afternoon, Ma’am?’

              She put the coffee cup to her lips and considered this. ‘I had lunch with an old friend of the family, Finnian Blake. I must have left the restaurant at two, because I had a meeting to attend at Govan Town Hall at three. I’ve established a new group, for the widows and widowers of workers killed in industrial accidents. For a first meeting, it was very well attended. I spoke for forty five minutes. Then there was a lively question and answer session. I must have been at the hall until nearly seven o’clock. One of the committee members drove me home. I can supply you with their number, if you’d like?’

              ‘Yes please, that would be helpful.’ Andy took a breath. ‘Might you have mentioned to someone that DCI Bevan and DCS Douglas were responsible for putting Hemingway Shipyards in the clear over the death of your husband?’

              ‘Well, I didn’t think the information was confidential, as DC Clifton had told me it in the street. As a matter of fact, I put it in my speech yesterday. There were a few hundred folk present in the hall and a handful of representatives from the local press. I expect it was all over the social media sites within minutes of the words leaving my mouth.’

*

‘Is she deliberately trying to piss us off?’ Dani paced across the tiny amount of floor space available in her office.

              ‘She’s a formidable woman to get on the wrong side of,’ Andy offered. ‘She grew up amongst activists and union heavy weights. I expect Nancy McRae knows how to make waves without actually doing something illegal. It’s going to be very difficult to pin down who may have committed the attacks on you and the DCS now. The suspect list has expanded to include about half of Glasgow.’

              ‘There were no prints left in either case. The perps must have been wearing gloves.’ Dani sighed and gazed up at the ceiling. ‘I wonder how much trouble this woman is intending to cause?’

              ‘I think her real beef is with the shipyard, Ma’am. I was checking her alibi when we got back this morning. Nancy said she was having lunch with an old family friend yesterday. It was Finnian Blake. He’s a solicitor who specialises in cases of corporate negligence. Over the years, his firm has taken on some of Scotland’s business giants.’

              ‘So Nancy is planning on initiating a private suit against Hemingways? Good. That should shift her attention away from us.’

              Andy eyed his boss carefully. ‘Did you go back home last night? You know you’re welcome to stay with me and Carol for a few days, until the flat gets properly cleaned up?’

              Dani stopped pacing. ‘Actually, I stayed in Rhodri’s spare room. I’m going to be at his place for the rest of this week.’

              ‘Okay, good. Did you tell James about the break-in?’

              Dani shook her head. ‘No, he’s got enough to deal with right now. I’ve got a cleaning company coming in today. It looks like I might have to re-paint the walls in the sitting room. After that, there’s no reason why James needs to know what happened.’

              ‘I think he’d
want
to know.’

              ‘If I tell him, Andy, then he’ll come rushing straight back. That’s the last thing I want him to do right now.’

              ‘Fine, it’s your call. But while you’re at Rhodri’s place, get his opinion on the Faulkner case. You might as well pick his brains, without the psychologist’s fees ending up on our investigation budget.’

              Dani laughed. ‘Every cloud has a silver lining, eh?’

              ‘Well, you said it Ma’am, not me.’

Chapter 40

P
rofessor Rhodri Morgan settled back into his armchair with a glass of single malt cradled in his lap. ‘Are you sure you’ve had enough to eat?’

              ‘Aye, thank you. I’m not really used to having a proper meal during the week. Not since James has been gone, anyway.’

              ‘When is he returning to Glasgow?’ Rhodri peered at his younger friend over the top of his glasses, those bright blue eyes examining her response carefully.

              ‘His mum needs him right now. Her treatment is going to be tough and could last several months.’

              ‘This may sound brutal, but James also has to look to his own future. He will have to balance the care for his mother alongside his relationship with you. It is an age-old dilemma.’

              ‘I don’t mind, I’ve been busy at work.’ Dani slowly sipped her whisky.

              Rhodri knitted his brow. ‘Do you
want
him to come back?’

              Dani sighed heavily and told the professor about Sam Sharpe’s proposal.

              ‘Ah, yet another age-old dilemma. I sensed there was something wrong.’

              ‘I don’t suppose you could tell me what I should do?’

              Rhodri chuckled. ‘No, but I can tell you a story, about a man who was madly in love with a woman who was already married with a young child. He knew she wasn’t happy with her husband but loved the child and was terrified of losing her. The man proposed, offering to take the child on as his own. The woman feared the child would choose to stay with her real father, so she turned him down.’

              ‘It’s the story of you and my mum.’ Dani felt her eyes start to glisten with tears. She took another gulp of the whisky. ‘You went on to live a good life.’

              ‘Oh yes, I made the best of it, as all of us do. But I lost the only woman I truly loved.’

              ‘You’re saying I need to choose the person I truly love. Only I genuinely don’t know who that is. I love them both, Rhodri.’

              He shrugged his shoulders. ‘I believe you will know when the time comes. You probably already do, but your desire to ‘do the right thing’ is colouring your judgement. All I am saying is that doing the right thing can be terribly over-rated.’ He formed a sad smile.

              Dani smiled back and raised her glass. ‘I’ll drink to that.’

*

When DCS Douglas strode across the floor of the serious crime division, he looked flustered. Dani sprang out from behind her desk to open the door for him.

              ‘Good morning, sir. How is Mrs Douglas?’

              ‘Gradually calming down. A replacement vehicle has arrived, whilst the repairs are done. Thankfully, the whole sorry incident has been covered by our insurance.’ He cleared his throat, suddenly realising that perhaps Dani’s experience had been a tad worse. ‘How about your flat? Everything sorted there?’

              ‘The decorators have been in, thanks. There wasn’t a great deal of damage done. But it’s the thought of someone being in your home, sir.’

              Douglas ran a hand through his thick, silvery hair. ‘Yes, it is. That’s why Alison’s been so shaken up, I think. It’s the malicious intent rather than the damned car. And the words that were written on the side were oddly disturbing.’

              ‘Like a throwback to a bygone era, when clashes between strikers and the police was commonplace. There was definitely a ‘them and us’ situation back then.’

              ‘Which I was keen to believe was well behind us.’ The DCS took a chair. ‘My father was a sergeant during the steelworkers’ strikes of the early seventies. He faced down a number of picket lines in those days. It was a tough time for him and my mother. I recall the terrible strain it put on them. He was spat at in the street once, when he was off-duty and taking me to the football. I’ll never forget it. Do you think that’s why I was targeted?’

              Dani shook her head. ‘No, I’m certain it was because Nancy McRae released our names to her pressure group and the press. Some lunatics picked up on the fact we’d allowed Hemingways off the hook. I don’t expect they’d have the gumption to look too deeply into the history of either of us. They were perhaps members of an anti-capitalist organisation. DS Mann is looking into it.’

              Douglas appeared relieved.

              ‘Did your father ever mention Alec Duff?’

              ‘The union boss? He didn’t have to. The guy was everywhere – on the news, the front of the red tops. He was a working class hero.’

              Dani frowned with concentration. ‘I find it odd that Nancy Duff would have married a man like Tony McRae. I sense he didn’t possess the strength of conviction that his wife did. Don’t women usually seek out men who are like their fathers?’

              ‘Perhaps McRae wasn’t her first choice. It would have been a hard act to follow anyway. They broke the mould after they made Alec Duff.’

              ‘How did the Glasgow police view his death?’

              ‘Well, no one condoned the man’s murder, of course. But privately, my father was relieved Duff was gone. His presence made it difficult for any compromises to be reached between the two sides. He was the great symbol of union power along the Clyde. When he’d gone it was easier for the workers to recognise that change was inevitable.’

              ‘Or be broken, whichever way you happened to view it.’

              ‘Aye, that’s true enough. But you’re too young to remember, Danielle.
Everybody
suffered during those strikes - the families of the strikers probably worse than most. Many had to rely on handouts to feed their weans.’

              ‘But the union leaders themselves sometimes profited?’ Dani recalled her own father complaining about this fact at the time.

              Douglas waggled his finger. ‘Now that’s dangerous talk, DCI Bevan. Don’t let it be heard outside these walls.’

              ‘It might explain why Duff was murdered by one of his own, though.’

              ‘The situation was complicated. The man who shot Duff was desperate. It wasn’t the grand conspiracy that some folk at the time painted it to be.’

              Dani nodded. Like Phil’s fall from grace, these incidents were usually a combination of a misunderstanding plus a feeling of being pushed to the edge. But the DCS had given her plenty to think about. His words had brought to mind something that Andy had mentioned before about the Faulkner case.

Chapter 41

A
s the long winter finally seemed to be fading into a bright, mild spring, Dani walked along the beach at Portencross and watched the waves breaking onto the shore.

              She heard the shingle being churned under foot as Andy jogged to catch her up. ‘Did you get a decent night’s sleep?’

              ‘Yes, thanks. The hotel is pretty basic, but there was a fabulous view.’

              ‘You must have had the same room Sam did.’

              ‘What have you found out?’

              ‘There was a record of Mr and Mrs Faulkner of Crosbie Farm providing food parcels for some of the striking families of South Glasgow. They contained fresh fruit and vegetables, eggs and milk. The steelworkers’ union archivist provided me with a list of names. Some of the contributions came from as far away as Pittsburgh in the US. They sent pretty diverse stuff too - from tinned goods to clothes and shoes.’

              ‘Never underestimate the sense of solidarity that exists between people in the same profession. Look at us coppers. We’re as bad.’

              Dani stared at the distant outline of the Arran hills before saying, ‘why did the Faulkners give handouts to the strikers? It doesn’t sound as if they had a great deal to spare themselves. What was their connection to the workers on the Clyde?’

              Andy raised his eyebrows and gave a grin. ‘Remember that Magnus Faulkner had two brothers? The younger one, whose death was recorded in the early eighties, was called Joseph Faulkner. He worked for the Ferris and Brewer Shipyard. More than that, he was a shop steward - a union rep for the MWSDU.’

              ‘The same union that Alec Duff worked for?’

              ‘Aye. So the Faulkners
did
have a connection to the strikes. That’s obviously why they wanted to contribute.’

              ‘Let’s find somewhere warmer to talk this through.’

              They walked towards the castle, where a small café had been erected in a pre-fab near the carpark. Andy bought them both a coffee.

              ‘What happened to Joseph Faulkner?’ Dani emptied a couple of sugars into her drink, sensing it wouldn’t be drinkable without some enhancement.

              ‘I got Alice to dig out his death certificate. He was declared dead in 1981, when he would have been forty two years old. In fact he’d gone missing, in the December of 1974. Last seen in one of the seedier pubs of Govan, three sheets to the wind. The police report suggested he most likely got his throat slit by robbers and ended up in the Clyde.’

              Dani’s mind drifted to the photograph she’d held in Dale Faulkner’s apartment in Richmond. It was a family Christmas scene with Dale, Vicki and their parents at the farmhouse kitchen table plus a couple of dark-haired, handsome men who she’d taken for Magnus’s brothers. She couldn’t quite recall the date written on the back. ‘And a body was never found?’

              ‘Nope.’ Andy grimaced as he downed the dregs of his cup. ‘
Jesus
, that was bad.’

              ‘I want to go to Crosbie Farm.’ Dani stood up, sprinkling a selection of change on the Formica table top.

              ‘It doesn’t exist any longer, Ma’am. There’s a bloody great housing estate built on top of it.’

              ‘Then take me to the housing estate. I want to see what it’s like.’

              Andy drove and Dani sat beside him in silence. The estate seemed to rise out of nowhere, nestled in a valley that was surrounded on all sides by gentle, rolling hills. The houses were nicely designed, using the local sandstone to help them blend into the landscape.

              But still, Dani didn’t like this place.

              Andy parked up near the show homes and sales office. ‘This is as close as we can get to where the farmhouse once stood.’

              They got out of the car. Dani gazed around her. ‘When did the Faulkners move to America?’ She knew the answer to this, but wanted Andy to help her go over the evidence again.

              ‘They left Scotland on the 25
th
July 1976.’

              ‘That was roughly eighteen months after Joseph Faulkner went missing.’

              ‘Do you think the events are connected?’

              ‘Yes, I’m beginning to. Did Joseph have a wife, any children?’

              ‘No, he hadn’t ever been married.’

              ‘So he had no one to spend Christmas with except his middle brother and family, here at Crosbie Farm.’ As Dani scanned the lush fields, an image formed in her mind. It was a date, written in biro on Kodak paper, faded with age.

              December 1974.

              She turned to face her friend. ‘I’ve seen a photo of them together. Dale kept it all those years. It was in his apartment when Sam and I searched it.’

              ‘There must have been plenty of family shots, it’s no surprise Dale wanted one for a keepsake.’ Andy looked puzzled.

              Dani shook her head vigorously. ‘No, it was taken
that
Christmas, in the December of ’74, over the period when Joseph went missing. What if he was at Crosbie Farm
after
the night he spent at the pub in Govan? He had nobody at home to vouch for his whereabouts.’

              ‘Then the Faulkner family would have reported it to the police, wouldn’t they?’

              ‘What if they didn’t? It might have suited Magnus for the police to believe that his wee brother fell foul of some Southside ne’er do wells picking on drunken Christmas revellers. He may have wanted people to think Joseph ended up in the river with his throat slit.’

              ‘If the last place Joseph was ever seen was actually here, at Crosbie Farm, then what really happened to him?’

              ‘Come on,’ Dani pulled open the car door. ‘We need to get back to Glasgow. The answer lies there, I’m certain of it.’