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Authors: Craig Robertson

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BOOK: In Place of Death
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‘I'm all ears.'

‘Well the first thing you need to know is that Saturn is not where this starts. There was once a company called Midas Homes and then one named LDM Holdings. Midas went bust with a trail of
debts and a short time later LDM started up with the same client list. Nine months after that, LDM hit the wall and were liquidated.'

‘Then they became Saturn?'

‘Not quite. First there was Valhalla Homes, the phoenix that had risen from the flames when LDM burned.'

‘I thought they hit the wall?'

‘They hit the wall and burst into flames. It's a regular occurrence with some companies in this business. Valhalla then led to Hastings Developments, hit the wall and then Hastings
became Saturn.'

‘I'm slightly confused here, Jacko.'

‘You're supposed to be. These kind of companies try to muddy the water as much as possible because when it's clear they just look like the crooks they are. All five firms
owned, sold, built and demolished properties around Scotland and the north of England. And all five have been dreadfully
unlucky
at various times over the years. That's what brought
them to the attention of IFIG.'

‘Unlucky how? Fires?'

‘Yes. Nine of them that we know of.'

‘Nine?
And yet they've never been done for it? Nine fires in properties that they owned and yet they still operate?'

‘Nine times they haven't been caught. In firms that
technically
aren't connected. And the firms don't still operate, only Saturn. Officially, of course, they have
done nothing wrong. Officially, they are the unfortunate victims of firebugs and bad luck. Officially, they are merely companies of interest.'

‘And unofficially?'

‘I wouldn't trust them to build a Lego house without putting a match to it. They're crooks. They shut down, dump their debt and start again. They torch their own properties if
they can't get the planning permission they want or if it's just cheaper to rebuild from scratch rather than renovate a listed building the way it should be.'

Narey scribbled notes on the pad in front of her, underlining
crooks
and
nine fires.

‘So, Mark Singleton. Tell me about him.'

‘He's just a front man. On the payroll rather than ever owning the business. I made a call and the word is he likes the limelight, the appearance of being in charge. He's a
chancer. A bit of a risk taker, likes getting his photo in the paper.'

‘A front man? But I checked myself and he's listed as a director.'

Jackson laughed. ‘Almost none of the directors are real. The names you are seeing are wives or children of those serving seven-year bans as directors after the previous companies bit the
dust, leaving creditors in the lurch. It's all front.'

‘So if Singleton's the front, who really owns Saturn? Could it be the Mullens?'

‘I guess it could be, sure. Come on, what's this about, Rachel? You're not chasing fires, I know that much.'

‘Saturn owned the old Odeon site. And Mullen Security had their name on the fence.'

She could almost hear his brain joining the dots. ‘And that's where the woman's body was found. I must be getting slow in my old age, should have made that connection myself.
Okay, what do you want me to do?'

‘Keep looking, keep asking around.'

‘Happy to do it. Saturn are exactly the kind of company we're after. Our clients aren't keen on paying out for fires that these cowboys have started themselves.'
‘Jacko, if I want to get at this mob, where do I look?' ‘Well, it's not easy, they're sneaky bastards. But my advice, for what it's worth, is that you
don't look for what Saturn are doing but what they've not been able to do. That's when these guys get dirty.'

Chapter 20

The call to DCI Addison's office was always a dubious pleasure and Narey feared this one would be no different. She was armed with the feedback from her chat with Johnny
Jackson but she still felt a nervousness she wasn't enjoying.

Addison was inevitably on the phone but cut the conversation short as soon as she stuck her head round the door. Alarm bells rang immediately.

‘I'll get back to you, Charlie,' he was saying. ‘There's someone more important than you I need to talk to. Yeah - and the same to you with knobs on. I'll
call you back.' He hung up. ‘Hi, Rachel, good to see you. Take a seat.'

The alarm bells were now ringing like a cathedral had been overrun by a troop of chimpanzees and they were swinging on the ropes.

‘I'll stand, sir, if it's all the same. What's the bad news?'

He grimaced. ‘Look, Rachel, don't start.'

‘You're trying to be nice. Of course there's bad news. What is it?'

He spread his arms wide as if ready to make some plea for understanding then gave up. ‘Sit down.'

‘No. Just tell me.'

‘Fucksake. Okay, have it your way. Rachel, you've got enough on your plate with the Molendinar body and everything else you're working on. You don't need another murder
case on top of that. I'm giving the Odeon woman to Jeff Storey and Rico.'

It felt as if she'd been slapped.

‘What? No way. There's no need for that. I'm all over this. Seriously, I can handle both. And I
want
both.'

‘It's not about what you want. I've got people queuing up who want this. It's about clearing both cases up and doing whatever makes that most likely. You running two
separate investigations does not qualify as best practice. I'm taking it off you for your own good and the good of the team.'

‘My
own good
?'

‘I said don't start. You know there's guys out there gunning for you as it is. Some of them resent your promotion and it's not going to help for you to be running two
murder cases. They'll be desperate for you to fuck up and I don't want that to happen.'

‘I've no intention of fucking up. And I got promoted because I earned it.'

‘I
know
that. Christ, it was me that recommended you. But there's knuckle-draggers out there who can't see past your skirt and won't believe you got it on merit.
They're the ones who will stir up trouble and I'm not giving them the ammunition. One murder case is plenty.'

‘So you are saying I should give in to guys who are still coming to terms with the fact that women have got the vote? That doesn't work for me.'

‘No, I'm
not
saying that. You know I'm not. You're a better cop than any of them and that's all the more reason not to give them any room to slag you off.
It's not just about them either. I've a duty to manage resources and having half the MIT team sitting scratching their balls while you take on every case in the book isn't the
best way to do that.'

‘Leaving me in charge of the case
is
the best way to do it. We've got a probable name for the victim and if dental records match then I'm going to inform the
husband.'

‘No.'

‘I've talked to the guy in charge at Saturn and there's no doubt he's dodgy. I've got Johnny Jackson all over the company history and it stinks. Saturn is a phoenix
firm with a history of unexplained fires and they're tied at the hip with the Mullens. I'm
on
this.'

‘No!' He was shouting now too. ‘The Mullens? Are you
trying
to give me reasons to take you off this? If they are involved in any way then we'll need to liaise with
Organized Crime. You're not getting all of that. Storey and Rico can pick it all up quickly enough. We need—'

‘This is out of order.'

‘Don't push it, Rachel. I've made my decision. And unless you can give me a very good reason not to do this—'

She blurted it out before she could think it through. ‘I think the cases are linked.'

There was a bemused pause before he laughed in her face. ‘What? They're
linked
. And you've just worked this out now?'

‘No, it's a connection I've been looking at. I think it's got legs and it makes sense for me to pursue both.'

‘This will be good. Go on.'

She breathed deeply, clutched at a straw, said a silent prayer to Danny Neilson and hoped for the best. ‘I think both cases are linked to urbexing.'

His face screwed up as if she'd spoken in Swahili. ‘
Urbexing
? I knew this would be good. What the hell is that?'

‘It's a hobby. A pursuit, I guess. Short for urban exploration. People go into abandoned buildings and the like. Places they're not supposed to go. Places
like—'

‘Like the Molendinar Burn? Really?'

‘Yes. And places like the old Odeon. Both are known sites for urbexers. The people who do this kind of thing.'

Addison scratched his head and was clearly regretting the entire conversation. ‘People who break into places. They've got a fancy name now, have they? In my day we called them
thieves.'

‘They don't steal things. That's not the point.'

‘So what is the point?'

‘The
real
point is that I think the cases could be linked. Yes, it might be speculation. Yes, it might come to nothing. But it's worth a look. And for that reason you should
keep me on both.'

He stared at her for a while, long enough for her to see the wheels turning in his head. He was almost there but she saw him pull back.

‘No. This is nonsense. You can't just pluck this stuff out of thin air.'

‘I've already got Becca Maxwell checking it out. It's not like I've just made it up. What do you take me for?'

She hoped he wouldn't answer that. She
had
got Maxwell to check it out after the Odeon find but with no real expectation that there was anything in it. She still didn't
believe it but right then it was all she had.

‘Rachel, I've made my mind up.'

‘Give me a bit more time.'

‘No.'

‘Give me till the end of the day.'

He groaned. ‘You really think there might be something in this?

‘Yes.'

‘You'll be the fucking death of me. Okay, end of the day and that's it. Understand?'

‘Got it.' All she had done was buy herself some time but it was something.

‘Okay, now tell me about the case you
will
be working. Tell me where we are with the Molendinar guy.'

She breathed for what seemed like the first time in five minutes. ‘Well it turns out that although he'd been staying at the Rosewood when he was killed, he wasn't
homeless.'

‘So what the hell was he doing there?'

‘I spoke to the boss at the City Mission, made a few phone calls and got a facial reconstruction done. This guy had been asking a lot of questions, both at the Rosewood and the Mission. He
was a journalist named Euan Hepburn, working undercover. Tony knew him and confirmed the facial ID.'

‘Tony? And when did you two discuss this?'

She ignored the tease in his voice, pretended to herself that he couldn't be insinuating anything. ‘He was there when the reconstruction came through from Dundee. Anyway, I made a
few calls this morning and none of the Scottish news desks claim to have commissioned him to do it. He was a freelance so he might have been getting the story first, then intending to flog it to
the highest bidder. A couple of the papers confirmed they'd taken stories from him before and they had an address for him for payment. A flat in Cordiner Street in Mount Florida.'

‘A journalist. Great. Just great. I take it you haven't released his name to the press.'

‘No. I was planning to hold on to that for a while longer. For one thing, we need to contact his sister, the next of kin. We'll run a DNA test on her for confirmation. Anyway, it
will do us no harm to keep his identity to ourselves for a bit.'

‘Agreed. You checked his flat out?'

‘Not yet. I've sent Toshney and a couple of uniforms over. We'll see what they come back with. But if he was undercover then it gives us a motive to play with.'

‘The owners of the hotel?'

‘Yes. If he was digging the dirt on the place, stands to reason that someone wouldn't be too happy about that.'

‘Who owns it?'

‘Two businessmen. Thomas Kilgannon and Brian Wells. Neither of them has a record. Although they should have just for running that place. It should have been shut down years ago. If they
found out Hepburn was undercover and they had something to hide then they'd need to shut him up.'

Addison levelled her with a stare. ‘Okay. And how exactly does that fit in with your urbexing theory?'

Good point, sir, she thought.

‘I don't know yet,' she said.

Addison shook his head. ‘I'm regretting this already. Okay, let's not get carried away with this pair either. Wanting them to be guilty isn't enough to bring a case
against them.'

She sighed heavily. ‘Look, I'm not wishing them guilty. Okay, maybe I am a bit. Have you been in that place? It
is
criminal the way those people are living. They are being
milked of their housing benefit and left to die slowly from drink and drugs. I'm betting the owners make a small fortune from keeping those poor bastards in that shithole and people will do
whatever it takes to keep the money rolling in. One thing we can be sure of, the people who own the Rosewood aren't big on scruples.'

Addison spread his arms wide in surrender. ‘Okay, okay. Get down from your soapbox and go bring them in.' He looked at his watch. ‘I'm free later this afternoon. Haul
them in and I'll sit in with you. Okay?'

She agreed grudgingly. ‘Okay. And it's not a soapbox.'

‘High horse?'

‘Common decency.' She was laughing. ‘You should try it sometime.'

BOOK: In Place of Death
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