Snared (30 page)

Chapter Ninety-Two

V
icky sat in the corner of the Old Mill Café, which was
br
eakf
ast-time busy.

Forrester smiled at MacDonald as he laid their drinks down. “Cheers, Mac.”

“No bother.” MacDonald sat next to Vicky, almost brushing his leg against hers.

Forrester took his coffee. “What did you make of that, Vicky?”

“Why’s Raven so adamant about keeping the cases separate?”

“He keeps going on about best practice. You know what they’re like with the buzzwords.”

“Even with the sighting and the Taser?”

Forrester stirred sugar into his mug. “The good thing is it’s up to us to prove the cases are linked.” He shrugged. “Let’s just let Raven manage up the way.”

“We’ll show him.” MacDonald blew on his coffee.

“Don’t.” Forrester shook his head. “You two were pretty far over the mark there. Mac’s already been mauled by Raven this morning.”

MacDonald narrowed his eyes. “Should’ve kept up the surveillance on the Muirheads. This might not’ve happened.”

“You heard him, though. Fergus bloody Duncan’s been at the bloody Chief with this. We’ve got an official complaint to deal with.”

“Sir, with all due respect, the Muirheads are solid suspects. They’ve already lied about their alibis.”

“Aye and we’ll get them for it in due course.” Forrester sipped his coffee. “I’ve been thinking about something John Raven said at the briefing.” He held up a hand. “I know, I know — always dangerous when I think, but humour me. The crimes have been
escalating
so far, right? Chucking a woman in a bin, trapping a crofter in his own snare, forced incest, chopping a farmer’s nose off, killing a greyhound trainer. Tying a bloke up in a car park’s a bit of a step down.”

“So what are you saying, sir?” Vicky took a drink of Diet Coke.

“I’m saying this could just be a warning. Something worse might be on its way.”

Vicky’s phone rang — Salewicz. “Do you mind if I take this?”

“Go for it.” Forrester waved her away.

Vicky turned away from them. “Hello?”

“Good morning, DS Dodds.”

“Thanks for calling me back.”

“You were after lists of visitors, right?”

“Have you got it?”

“I have. I’ll send it over but I need to warn you about something first — I gather you’ve had Polly and Sandy Muirhead in for questioning?”

“How the hell do you know that?”

“I had to run this list past my handler. He said there’s a flashing red flag next to their names.”

“They’re potentially involved in this group perpetrating the crimes
we’re investigating.” Vicky swapped hands. “Are they on the list?”

“They’re frequent visitors here. Anyway, my handler got warned off by the NHTU.”

“That’s Vice, isn’t it? Why are they looking into them?”

“No idea. We collaborate with them a lot. It’s a fairly murky world, as I’m sure you can imagine. At the end of the day, it’s your battle to fight.”

“Any chance you could ask your handler?”

“Given how deep I am here, it was one-way info from him to me. I’m not going to press it.”

“Okay, thanks for passing it on. Do you lot have any active interest in them?”

“Well, they were known to my handler.”

“Can you send the list over?”

“It’s in your inbox now.”

“Thanks.” Vicky turned back and put her phone on the table, adjusting her skirt.

“Look, Mac, that’s the end of the matter, okay? We’ve got a job to do, let’s do it.” Forrester took a slurp of coffee and glanced at Vicky’s mobile. “Who was that?”

“Salewicz, the undercover guy at Phorever Love. Reckons the Muirheads were frequent visitors.”

“Shite.”

“That’s not all. His handler was warned off them by the NHTU.”

MacDonald frowned. “The National Human Trafficking Unit are interested in the Muirheads?”

“That’s what he said.”

MacDonald looked over his mug at Forrester. “Used to work in the predecessor in Strathclyde a few years ago, the old Vice and Trafficking Unit. Could check it out, if you’d like?”

“Do it.” Forrester tapped his fist against his lips. “How does this relate to human trafficking?”

“Might not, sir.”

Vicky cleared her throat, feeling like something was stuck in it. “Have we been told to kill the surveillance because Vice are interested in them?”

“Probably.” MacDonald finished his coffee. “Vice investigations usually push everyone else to arm’s reach.”

Forrester shook his head. “Christ’s sake.”

“Let me pick up with the NCA guys.” MacDonald pushed his mug away. “Might be something in this.”

Forrester nodded. “Vicky, I don’t care what Raven’s telling us to do and I don’t care about Fergus bloody Duncan. This is solid intel. Give the Muirheads hell when they get here.”

Chapter Ninety-Three

V
icky tugged at her blouse collar. “Thanks for coming here voluntarily again. We appreciate your c
o-operation.”

Fergus Duncan sat between Polly and Sandy Muirhead, a grin on his face as he fiddled with his mobile. He scowled as he looked up. “Please cut the preamble. My clients are very busy people.”

“First, we’re looking to establish your whereabouts between seven p.m. and nine p.m. last night.”

Muirhead looked up from Vicky’s chest, flicking his tongue over his lips. “We were at a dinner party with friends.”

“I hope for your sakes it’s not Simon and Emma Hagger.”

Duncan raised his eyebrows. “Excuse me?”

“We’ve been led down the garden path by your clients in relation to the previous alibi from them.”

“I assure you this is the truth.” Muirhead stared at her, eyelids flickering. “We were with friends last night.”

Vicky sighed. “What are their names?”

“There were eight of us. I can give you the names of the hosts.”

“That’ll suffice for starters.”

“Connor and Jennifer Ewing.” Muirhead took a sheet of paper from Duncan and wrote on it before passing it to Vicky. “This is their address.”

Vicky checked it — the arse end of Broughty Ferry. She stared at Muirhead again. “Were your friends Simon and Emma
Hagger
 there?”

Muirhead nodded. “They were, aye.” She nodded at Considine. “We will, of course, verify the story.”

Muirhead unclenched his fists. “By all means.”

Vicky sat back in her chair and smoothed down her skirt. “This is your chance to change your mind if this is made up.”

“It’s the truth.”

“You’re definitely sure about that?”

“Aye!”

Duncan tossed his phone on the table. “Sergeant, please desist from this until you’ve bothered to validate the story.”

Vicky glanced at Polly. “Anything else to add, Mrs Muirhead?”

Polly shook her head, still staring at the tabletop. “No.”

Vicky looked at her for a few seconds. Something was being hidden here. She stared at Muirhead. “We want to understand your whereabouts on the nineteenth of August last year.”

Muirhead creased his forehead, the wrinkles smoothing out as he smiled. “That’s easy. We were on holiday in Riga.”

Considine frowned. “In Latvia?”

“Aye.” Muirhead kept smiling. “My wife and I are making an effort to visit every single country in Europe. That’s the fourteenth country on our list.”

Vicky made a note. “Again, we’ll check that out. Flight reservations, hotel bookings, that sort of thing. We’ll need to speak to the airlines and hotels to make sure you were actually there.”

“We were!”

“I’m not comfortable just taking your word for it, Mr 
Muirhead
.”
Vicky drilled a stare into Polly. “We’ve reason to believe you were frequent visitors to the Phorever Love commune out by
Redford
.”

Neither responded.

Vicky raised her hands up, then let them drop back to the tabletop. Both looked up. “Is that correct?”

Polly drummed her thumb on the tabletop, the frequency and velocity quickening. “We were there as part of the
pro bono
work I do at Gray and Leech.”

“What work is this?”

“I’ve mentioned it before. The work we’re doing is helping a small operation deal with complex contracts.”

Vicky looked at Duncan. “Is that true?”

“It’s confidential.”

“Is it true, though?”

Duncan spun his phone on the desk. “My clients have stated the reason for their visit. The action now rests with you to verify that, should you wish.”

“We will.” Vicky resisted throwing Duncan’s phone against the wall. “You said this was work related and yet both of you went?”

“My wife and I decided to combine business with pleasure.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Polly shrugged. “We had a day out in the countryside afterwards. Cup of tea, spot of lunch.”

“We’ll have to check with your employers.”

Duncan rolled his eyes. “I can confirm it’s true. The details are confidential, but they are clients of ours.”

“We’ll need to obtain that from the partners in the firm, not just a lowly member of staff.”

“I beg you —”

“Does this matter pertain to your complaint of corporate
sensitivity
?”

Duncan put his hand over the tape recorder’s microphone. “Of course it does.”

Vicky held his gaze till he looked away.

Muirhead held up his watch. “Is that it? Are we free to go?”

Vicky sat back, thinking what else she could do. Raven just wanted them cleared. Until the latest alibi fell apart, they had to keep them on that side of the line. “For now.”

Chapter Ninety-Four

G
ot an update on the Muirheads, sir.” Vicky sat in the chair in front of Forrester’s desk, stamping her feet on the carpet.

“Glad to hear it.”

MacDonald burst in the room. “I’ve got something, sir.”

“Sorry, Mac, Vicky’s first.”

“But, sir, thi —”

“Mac. Vicky’s first, okay?” Forrester shook his head. “Worse than bloody children.”

MacDonald slumped in the other chair, his foot tapping. “Right.”

Vicky crossed her legs. “Just been in with the Muirheads as per Raven’s instructions. The latest spurious alibi is they were at a
dinner
party. Considine’s checking it out. Polly reckons she was doing
pro bono
work at Phorever Love — that seems to be the corporate sensitivity angle Duncan was banging on about.”

Forrester rubbed his eyes. “What do you want to do, Vicky?”

“I want to arrest them. I think they’re involved in this.”

“Good old policeman’s hunch like your old man?”

“Police
woman
’s hunch.”

Forrester stared at the window in his office. The blinds were drawn to block the mid-morning sun. “Get a team doing traces into them.”

“That’s it?”

“This Duncan boy’s threats aren’t something Raven’s taking lightly. Leech, of Gray and Leech fame, goes back a long way with the Chief.”

Vicky leaned back in the chair and stared at the ceiling. “So it’s an old boys’ network thing?”

“We just need to be careful, Vicky, that’s all.”

“I’ll get Considine speaking to her employers about this
pro bono
work.”

“Fine.” Forrester got up to open the blinds. “What about this snare attack?”

“Turns out they were on holiday in Riga, Latvia.”

“You believe them?”

“I doubt it like everything that comes out of their mouths. I’ll get Considine to check it out. We need solid evidence they weren’t in the country on the nineteenth of August.”

MacDonald flipped his hands up. “Are you done now?”

“Suppose so.” Forrester sat. “Go on, Mac.”

MacDonald rubbed his hands together as his foot stopped
tapping
. “I had DC Reed’s boys interview those Fife schoolgirls to see if they were involved.”

“I told you to interview them
with
his help.”

“There were far too many for just me and DC Woods, sir.” MacDonald couldn’t stop himself grinning. “One of the schoolgirls reckons Marianne Smith tried to recruit her to some group.”

Chapter Ninety-Five

V
icky waited with Forrester in the room adjacent to the interview suite, gaze flicking between the clock on the wall and the two-way mirror. “Are they just about done?”

“Doesn’t look like it.”

DCI Raven and DI Greig sat opposite Marianne Smith and Kelly Nelson-Caird, whose voices came from speakers mounted above the view screen.

Raven adjusted his tie. “Ms Smith, you really need to start co-operating with us. We’ve had two threats made now by your group relating to these birds. One crime’s already been committed. Does it have to be mass murder before you’ll help us?”

Marianne glanced at Nelson-Caird. “No comment.”

Vicky folded her arms and sat back. “They’re getting nothing out of her.”

Forrester smirked. “Nice to see it’s not just us.”

“Marianne’s become seasoned to this.”

Forrester shook his head. “We’ll need to get her shifted to
Cornton
Vale soon.”

Vicky watched Marianne Smith, who sat hunched and shrunken. She felt almost sick with guilt — she’d cautioned her
and pu
t her there. “I can’t help but sympathise with her, sir.”

Forrester laughed. “And people say you’re a cold bitch.”

“I thaw out occasionally.”

“I take pity on your poor daughter.”

“She gets the good side of me, believe me.”

“If Marianne’s not involved in this, she knows who is. I’m happy to convict her for what we’ve got so far. Reckon we should ask her about the snares while we’re in there.”

“Might be worth a shot.” She tapped the glass. “Those two haven’t.”

They waited a few minutes for Raven to get to his feet. Greig leaned across the desk. “Interview paused at ten oh six. We’ll be back.”

MacDonald opened the door and popped his head in. “That’s us.”

Vicky followed Forrester into the corridor.

Raven nodded at them before waiting on Greig to shut the door. “How do you think that went, David? Nice to see a master at work?”

“About as well as could be expected, I suppose.”

Raven clenched his fists. “I take it you’re not sitting eating popcorn in there, right?”

“No, sir.” Forrester tilted his head towards the room. “We’ve just discovered she’s been trying to recruit schoolgirls for some group.”

“Christ on a bike. Where?”

“Fife.”

“Bloody Fife.”

“We’re also thinking the Edzell one was a trial run.”

MacDonald held up a file. “Got a fair amount on Ms Smith from the NCA.”

Raven stabbed a finger at the interview room. “On you go. We’ll observe through the glass.”

“Fine.” Vicky went in and waited for MacDonald and Forrester. She got the tape machine going again. “Interview recommenced at ten eleven. DCI Raven and DI Greig have left the room, replaced by myself, DS Victoria Dodds, DI David Forrester and DS Euan MacDonald.” She tossed her ponytail to the side. “Ms Smith, we have a few supplementary questions to ask.”

Nelson-Caird scribbled something in her pad. “Please ask them.”

“Ms Smith, can you tell us your whereabouts on the nineteenth of August last year?”

Marianne stayed looking at the table. “I don’t know.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’d need to check.”

“Are you acquainted with a Cameron Lethnot?”

Marianne didn’t look up. “The name doesn’t ring a bell.”

“On that date, Mr Lethnot had his leg caught in a snare trap just outside his house near Edzell. Do you have any opinions on snares?”

“The law doesn’t go far enough. They still get away with
murder
.”

“We’ve grounds to believe the same people who did this committed the other four crimes.”

“It wasn’t me, if that’s what you’re getting at.”

Forrester stepped in front of the mirror, eyes locked on
Marianne
. “Ms Smith, we’re investigating your involvement in these crimes.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

MacDonald passed Nelson-Caird the statement Reed had obtained. “This is from a Gemma Platt of Cupar. Do you know Gemma, Ms Smith?”

The remaining energy drained out of Marianne, whose eyes went dead and her skin turned pallid. She nodded. “I do. Nice girl.”

“I refer you to the statement she gave to our colleagues in
Glenrothes
earlier this morning.
‘I like Marianne. She’s really cool. She tried to include me in her group.’
When asked what group, she replied,
‘It was something to do with animal welfare. She didn’t say the name.’
She was asked if she joined, to which she replied,
‘No. I didn’t want to get into any trouble. Marianne’s cool but I’ve got my Highers coming up
.
’
” MacDonald put his copy down on the table. “What group’s this?”

“I don’t know what she’s talking about.”

“Really?”

“I’ve absolutely no idea.”

“Sounds like you tried to recruit her into an animal rights group.”

“You know what children are like. They get fantasies in their heads.”

MacDonald rubbed his hands together. “Fantasies about marrying that bloke from One Direction? Maybe.” He scowled. “
Fantasies
about being recruited to terrorist groups in Fife? Bit more difficult to make up.”

“I swear. She’s making it up. It’s not true.”

“There’s a terrorist group perpetrating acts against known
animal
welfare abusers. Wouldn’t be the same group, would it?”

“No comment.”

“You’re under caution. This is your chance to clear yourself. Gone are the days when silence showed innocence.”

“Do you know what I’m going through? I’m still detained
without
charge.”

“You’ve been cautioned.”

“With some spurious charges relating to some books you found in my house. You’ll be lucky to get a fine for those.”

“Wouldn’t be so sure about that. Those books, well, not the sort you can buy with One-Click on Amazon, are they?”

Marianne lowered her gaze. “I’ve spoken to Gemma at numerous events in Cupar. She’s a lovely girl but I swear I never tried to recruit her.”

“Meaning you’ve tried to recruit other people?”

“No! There’s no group!”

MacDonald leaned back in his chair. “Not sure of that. We’ve got five, maybe six occasions when related crimes have been committed against people with public record of animal cruelty. August and November last year, three people were involved. The three in the last nine days, down to two. You’ve been in here for most of that time. Bit of a coincidence the group went from three to two with you being in custody, isn’t it?”

“I wasn’t in custody last Wednesday or on Sunday.” Marianne snorted. “I know nothing of this group. You’re clutching at straws.”

“This possible sixth crime involved a fatality.”

Nelson-Caird leaned across the desk. “I suggest you alter your line of inquiry, Sergeant.”

MacDonald opened the file in front of him, casually flicking through the pages. “You involved in any groups at all?”

“No.”

“Think you might be.” MacDonald pushed a sheet across the table. “From the file held on you by our colleagues in the NCA. It’s heavily redacted, of course, but it clearly shows your membership in several groups.”

“It’s not a crime, is it?”

“Not exclusively, no.” MacDonald dropped the file on the table. “You wouldn’t be trying to recruit for these groups, would you?”

“No!”

“What about the group making threats against Fixit DIY
stores?”

Marianne frowned. “I’m sorry?”

“Same group as did the others has threatened the Fixit DIY store on the Kingsway. You recruiting for them?”

Nelson-Caird put a hand over the microphone. “Your superiors were just asking about this.”

“I know.” MacDonald pushed her hand away and showed a copy of the poison pen letter from that morning. “What does ‘
You’ve got till lunchtime’
mean?”

Marianne shook her head. “No idea.”

Vicky cleared her throat. “This is a serious crime, Ms Smith. You’re in over your head, aren’t you?”

Marianne smacked her fist on the table. “I’ve got no sympathy with any of the victims. I stand by my comments on the message board.”

Vicky grinned. “You denied making them the other day.”

Marianne’s eyes bulged.

“So it
was
you, Ms Smith?”

Marianne glanced at Nelson-Caird. “No comment.”