Lethal Intent (34 page)

The firm's website was top of the list: he chose it and watched as the home page appeared, as fast as his computer would allow. It was a professional job, one befitting a major business, and it offered an extensive menu, offering history, services, projects completed, current projects, financial performance, employment opportunities and, finally, the element he had hoped to find, biographies. He selected it, and images of the company's senior executives appeared before him, with that of Brindsley Groves at the top. He clicked on the smiling face and waited.

A page of text assembled itself on his screen: the life story that he had hoped to find. He began to read, silently.

Brindsley Groves, BA, MBA, is chairman and managing director of Herbert Groves Construction. He is fifty-eight years old, and has been chief executive of the company for thirty-one years, since succeeding his father Herbert Groves II. He was elected chairman of the company on his father's death.

He was educated at Strathallan School, and at Aberdeen University, from which he graduated with honours in accountancy and economics at the age of twenty-one. Before taking up a position with the company, he studied for a further year at the University of York, obtaining a Master's degree in Business Administration. Under his guidance the company has risen to become Scotland's second largest construction group, with annual turnover in excess of £300 million. Mr Groves is a member of CBI Scotland, and of the Caledonian Home-builders Association. He is also a non-executive director of four other Scottish companies.

He is a keen sportsman, and represented Scotland at cycling. His other major interests are equestrianism, golf and horology. He is a member of the Antiquarian Horological Society.

Brindsley Groves has been married to the former Celia Greatorix for thirty-seven years. They have two children, Herbert Groves III, and Rowena Groves.

'He's been a busy guy,' Martin murmured to himself, then focused on the period of his life that interested him most.

Seventy

In Edinburgh, Stevie Steele had one thing on his mind: the whereabouts of Chris Aikenhead. He had completed all but one of his list of informal interviews; the last, with Dan Pringle, he feared would be the most difficult. He had served under the outgoing head of CID at divisional level, and for all his acknowledged weaknesses, he had admired him as the type of detective that he hoped to be himself.

He knew that, like most detectives, Pringle hated offences against children more than anything else, and so he was not surprised that he had gone for Patsy Aikenhead in the interview room, given the evidence that he had had before him at the time.

He told him as much, as they sat in his drawing room.

Pringle exploded in his face. 'Are you digging that thing up again?' he shouted, his bushy moustache quivering. 'I'll tell you this once, Stevie, and once only. That bloody shambles had nothing to do with me. It was all that arrogant bastard McIlhenney's fault. He sent a uniformed officer to bring the Yasmin Khan woman to the office for her interview, rather than getting off his fat arse and going to talk to her on-site.'

Steele had experienced his former boss's temper before: he knew that the one thing he could not do was bend before it. 'That's not George Regan's recollection, sir. He told me, without even being directly asked, that the order to bring her in came from you.'

Pringle's eyes blazed. 'If George said that McIlhenney must have put him up to it.'

'If McIlhenney had done that, sir, then surely he'd have told me that story himself, but he didn't. The only thing he said to me that was critical of you in any way was that he thought you went too hard against the girl.'

'Maybe I did, son.' Steele was surprised by the concession. 'But there's one thing you and everybody else seems to have forgotten about her. That balls-up over the time didna' prove she was innocent, it just meant that the Spanish girl, Magda what's-her-name, could have done it too. Only she didn't, Stevie: Patsy Aikenhead was guilty. She did what she confessed to doing: she threw the kid into the cot in a temper, and the poor wee thing banged her head on the bars and died from it. I know that, I heard her say it, and for all her hysterics I bloody know she was telling me the truth!' He was breathing hard. 'Did you ask McIlhenney if he thought she was innocent?' he barked.

The inspector felt his own temper rise. 'It doesn't matter what McIlhenney thinks!' he barked back. 'It doesn't matter what you think. I haven't been asked to investigate the conduct of the Aikenhead case. I've been asked to find links between you, Neil and George because of what's happened to all your children. I've been asked to protect any other coppers' kids who might be at risk. So will you please drop the outrage and the protests and co-operate with me?'

It was as if Steele's sudden anger had blown out Pringle's fire. The older man seemed to sink into himself. 'She did it, Stevie, that's all,' he said, quietly, as he slumped into his armchair.

'Okay,' his colleague murmured as he sat opposite him. 'Okay. Now, can I get down to the things I need to ask you?'

'Aye, go on.'

'First, do you agree that there are no other possible links between the three of you? This is most important.'

'Yes, I agree. McIlhenney was on temporary secondment to my division. Maybe our paths crossed once or twice after that, I'm not sure, but certainly never with George involved.'

'Good. That's a weight off my mind. The other questions I want to ask you are about Chris Aikenhead. At any point in the investigation did you interview him?'

'No. He was away; it was only after we'd charged the girl that her solicitor got in touch with him and he came back. He came to see me then, but it was all wrapped up and the girl was on remand by that time. With hindsight, I shouldn't have let him anywhere near me, but he made such a fuss in the station, it was either that or have him arrested for breach of the peace.'

'Why didn't you?'

'I felt sorry for the boy. He hadn't killed the baby; he was just reacting like any husband might have in the circumstances.'

'How did your discussion go?'

'As you'd expect; he yelled at me that his wife would never do something like that, and I told him that she did and that she'd admitted to it. He said that it must have been the girl Magda; I told him that we knew for sure it wasn't, although I didn't tell him why.'

'Did he make any threats?'

'He got steamed up about the Spanish girl, until I told him that if I caught him within a mile of her I would have him arrested on the spot.'

'Can you remember enough about him to give me a description?'

Pringle nodded; he closed his eyes, as if it made it easier to form a picture in his mind. 'Big bugger,' he murmured, as if he was describing it, 'about six three, maybe, sun-tanned, brown hair, don't know about the eyes. Very fit; a strong-looking boy, but you'd expect that with him working on the rigs.' He blinked and looked across at Steele. 'That was ten years ago, mind. Can you not get a photo?'

'I'm trying, but no luck yet; he's never been arrested, and he doesn't have a photographic driving licence. Was that your only meeting with him?'

'Not quite. I saw him again at the trial, then afterwards, when the whole thing had blown up in our faces. He asked to see me again, and I agreed. He was very quiet this time, very controlled; he asked me if the inquiry would be reopened, and I had to tell him that while it would, there was no prospect of progress as long as the other girl involved refused to come back from Spain, and that even if she did, the prospect of a guilty verdict against her was remote.'

'How did he react? Do you remember?'

Pringle closed his eyes again. 'Oh, yes, I remember. He looked across the desk at me and he said, "However long it takes, Mr Pringle, we can only hope that justice will be done." And then he said, "Of course, sometimes it needs help." He was calm, though, not threatening in any way; he just sounded sad.'

He shifted in his chair. 'He was right, and all, Stevie. It needs help when buggers like us are involved. I'm sorry about my tantrum earlier. You see, it was no surprise your coming to see me. I've been expecting it, ever since I heard about the McIlhenney boy, and I've known what we would wind up talking about. I canna' bring Ross back, but I truly hope we're all wrong about this, and that her death was a one-in-a-million accident. For if it wasn't, I don't know if I'll be able to live with the knowledge that it was caused by something I did. You were spot on, son: whether I was right or I was wrong doesn't matter a toss. My daughter will still be just as dead, and so will George's son.'

Steele rose, and Pringle showed him to the door. 'There's an extradition agreement with Spain now,' he said. 'D'you think this might lead to us trying to get the Magda girl back over here?'

The inspector frowned. 'There wouldn't be much point. That's the one thing I've learned for sure, this morning. She died in Algeciras, five years ago, from a drug overdose.'

Seventy-one

When Maggie Rose arrived at police headquarters for her lunch date with Bob Skinner, she discovered that they would be eating in private and not in the senior officers' dining room as she had thought.

A table had been set up in the deputy chief constable's office, and a bottle of sparkling water was cooling in an ice bucket.

Skinner was on the phone when Jack McGurk showed her in: he had his back to her and was speaking quietly so she could hear nothing of what was being said, but when he ended the call and turned to her she could see a concerned expression on his face. 'Problem?' she asked.

'I hope not. There's someone we've been trying to contact all morning, without success.'

'One of our people?'

'No, a friend. It relates to something we have on the go just now.'

By telling her next to nothing he had told her a lot: somewhere within their territory, or sphere of influence, an operation involving another organisation was under way, one of sufficient sensitivity for him to be unwilling or unable to divulge its details. He knew that she would realise this, but he knew also that she would put the moment out of her mind as soon as she left his room.

'Sit yourself down,' he invited, ushering her to one of the two chairs at the neatly set table. 'Would you like a sherry before we eat?'

She declined. 'No, thank you, sir. I drove myself down from the office.'

He grinned. 'I didn't mean a whole bottle, but as you wish.' He took the silver covers from the two plates that lay already on the table, revealing a starter of avocado and prawns, then opened the mineral water and filled two glasses. 'I hope I've remembered your tastes from when you worked on this floor,' he said.

'This is a good start,' she told him, as they picked up their cutlery and began to eat.

'Are you enjoying being back in uniform?' he asked her.

'As much as any of us does,' she replied, candidly. 'But I really am enjoying the job that goes with it.'

'Even when you're out in the rain doing crowd control at a Hearts home game?'

'Even then. Divisional command's made me think in a different way than before, and see the wider picture again.'

'Plus, you get to deal with people who aren't criminals; that's how Willie Haggerty put it to me when I asked him the same question.'

'He's right. I feel that I'm part of respectable society, rather than just the underbelly. Didn't you feel the same when you reached command rank?'

Skinner grinned. 'Maybe, but I like being part of the underbelly. Sure it's a multi-faceted job, but I'm the sort of cop who joined up to put away the bad guys, and I always will be.'

'Speaking of which, do you know how Stevie's getting on with his investigation? I haven't spoken to him since breakfast this morning.'

'I had a report from him half an hour ago. He's got a firm line of inquiry, and a man in his sights.'

'A suspect.'

'Let's just say it's someone who'll have to have a good story when we speak to him.' He laid down his fork. 'Can I turn it around? How are you getting on with Stevie? That's a purely personal question, by the way, nothing to do with the job.'

'I know, and I'm touched that you ask it. The answer is that we're fine. To be honest, boss, I am truly domestically happy for just about the first time in my life, and it feels great. I enjoy waking up in the morning, I enjoy going to sleep at night, and I enjoy all the bits in between.'

'That's great,' he said, sincerely. 'A lot of people who know you both will be pleased to hear that.'

'As far as the job's concerned,' she continued, 'I don't have a problem working in the same place as him. If you were wondering, that is.'

'I wasn't, but again, it's good to know. Still…'

There was a knock on the door. 'Okay!' he called out, and Maisie, the dining-room waitress entered, pushing a trolley.

'Beef olives for two,' she announced. 'Chips and carrots.'

'As requested,' said the DCC, watching as she served them.

'You were going to say,' Maggie ventured, as she left. 'There was a "Still…" hanging in the air.'

'True. I was going to add… that shouldn't close your mind to other situations. Hell, I'll get to the point. Dan Pringle's going; understandably, after the tragedy, he wants to devote all his time to Elma. So I'm looking for a new head of CID. I've made no decisions yet, indeed I've been too busy to give it much thought, but I want to know this. When I consider the candidates for the job, do you want your name to be on the list? I know you're new in divisional command, but you're an experienced and very talented detective officer. If you tell me you're interested, I'll consider you with the others.'

She stared at him, across the table. 'You still have the power to surprise me, boss. I thought you had invited me here to tell me very politely that you were going to move either Stevie or me to a different station.'

She gulped. 'I don't know how to tell you this, and I'm very grateful that you would think of me for one moment as Dan's successor, but I have to decline. There's the practical, personal point that Stevie's career is clearly CID, for a while at least. I would feel awkward living with him and commanding him, but also, although you're right, I am new in my present job and I could go somewhere else without creating too big a gap, I feel that I've made a commitment to the post, and I want to see it through to its conclusion.' She stopped for a moment, then continued, nervously, 'There is one other thing: I am not sure that you would want a head of CID who's hardly in the office before she goes off on maternity leave.'