Dumfries (34 page)

Chapter Thirty Two

  Two months hid passed since Flora Connor hid sat doon across fae him in his office in The Candleriggs.  In the intervening time, while waiting fur permission fae The Scottish Home and Health Department tae grant him access through client status tae her son, Silas hid conducted as much research as time hid allowed intae the background ae Robert Conner’s case.  This hid included a trip oot tae Stirling tae talk tae Inspector Tom Barron, the lead investigating officer in the disappearance and probable murder ae Ann Broon.  He felt himsel wince at the use ae the word ‘probable.’  He’d spent an evening wae an experienced, celebrated brief and good friend ae his, John Howdy.  John Howdy and his partner, Willie Barker, ae Howdy & Barker Associates, wur a pair ae dandily-dressed Faculty ae Advocate members, mair commonly known by the man in the street as Queens Counsels.  They’d made an absolute killing in the sixties, operating oot ae the district courts in Glesga, efter the universal introduction ae Legal Aid fur those who couldnae afford legal representation back in 1964.  They wur, whit could be best described as, controversial and colourful characters and wur furever being subjected tae internal investigations by baith The Crown Office in Edinburgh and the UK Inland Revenue authorities in London.  Of course, nothing illegal hid ever been found tae incriminate them, although they wur well-known in legal circles fur sailing close tae the wind.  It wis said that John and Willie wid’ve represented a wan-winged fly oan a wall, if they could’ve found a way tae persuade it tae sign oan the dotted line ae the Legal Aid form.  They wrote lucrative weekly columns in The Glesga Echo and The Sunday Echo respectively, and appeared regularly oan the telly and radio when comments and opinions wur being sought oan whit wis deemed complicated cases fur mere journalists tae explain tae the great unwashed sitting in front ae their televisions at night.  John Howdy hid been Robert Connor’s Queens Counsel leading up tae and during his trial.

  “Christ, Silas, things must be desperate if ye’re sniffing aboot in the Connor case,” John hid scoffed, biting intae his bloody steak.

  “So, it wis open and shut then?”

  “Well, whether he murdered that young lassie or no is irrelevant. He wis jist as guilty as that monkey wis aw they years ago, doon in Hartlepool, as far as the jury wur concerned.”

  “So, let me get this straight, John. Ur ye suggesting, in your professional opinion, that the conviction ae Robert Connor could be unsafe?”

  “Silas, whit Ah’m suggesting is, yer boy, Connor, comes across as slippery and sleekit oan the wan haun and as weird as a bent nine-penny piece oan the other.  He’s wan ae these people that when first being introduced tae him, he instantly makes people believe that he’s guilty, whether a crime his been committed or no.  Put it this way, he widnae be ma first choice, if me and Isobel wur stuck fur a baby-sitter in an emergency,” John hid replied, lifting up his glass and taking a fair wee moothful ae his Mouton-Rothschild.  “If somewan wis tae paint an abstract picture ae pure evil, then ye’d probably no be surprised tae learn that it widnae be difficult tae spot Robert Connor’s face lurking aboot in there somewhere, staring oot at ye, like a bare arse at a blind Bishop’s ordination.”

  “Aye, bit is he a killer?” Silas hid pressed him.

  “Who knows?  And anyway, why ur ye so interested in somewan like him fur?  Wur ye no offered the case and knocked it back, before that useless piece ae cadaver, Kester Truffle accepted it?” John hid asked, fork paused in mid-air, looking across the white tablecloth at him, before shrugging and taking a stab at an escaping mushroom that wis swimming aboot in the blood oan his plate.

“Bit, whit aboot the reports ae her popping up, aw o’er the place, in tow wae some aulder guy?” Silas hid pressed, ignoring the question.

  “There wur numerous supposedly sightings ae her, popping up, the length and breadth ae England and Wales, the last being reported in Cardiff oan the 17
th
November, eight days efter she disappeared, twenty-four hours before Connor goat lifted the second time and that creepy arse ae his slung in tae the untried hall up in Barlinnie. Seemingly it led a lot ae polis forces oan a merry goose-chase, so it did.”

  “Aye, Inspector Barron, who wis in charge ae the case, showed me the list wae the dates. And he’s no my boy, John.  You wur the wan that wis defending him, remember,” Silas hid reminded him.

  “Aye,” The QC hid replied thoughtfully, nodding, drapping his voice, before looking aboot the busy restaurant.  “Bit, whit the good inspector widnae hiv been able tae tell ye, wis that the actual last reported sighting ae her did indeed place the girl doon in Cardiff, bit it wis a week efter Robert Connor’s arse wis slung in jail.”

  “Eh? Whit?  Ur ye sure, John?  Surely, that cannae be right,” The Brief hid exclaimed, looking aboot as he leaned forward across the table, clearly flustered. “That’s certainly no whit it said oan Inspector Barron’s list ae dates and whit wis aired fae the witness staun up in the High Court during the trial. The last reported phone call wis, as you said, the day before Robert Connor wis lifted fur the second time and charged wae the lassie’s disappearance and murder,” Silas hid reminded him, confused as tae where this turn ae events hid been leading and feeling that heart ae his thumping faster and his indigestion taking a turn fur the worse.

“The date Ah’m referring tae only surfaced later…long efter the trial and the appeal refusal.”

  Silence.

“According tae The Crown, the authorities only ever managed tae trace where wan ae the so-called ‘sighting’ calls came fae, as they wur referred tae at the trial. That wis oot ae a total ae thirteen reported calls made via public telephone boxes.  The number ae calls wisnae thirteen, bit wis in fact fourteen. Seemingly the intelligence services wur bugging telephone conversations o’er a period ae time between Mick McGahey, oor very own, home-grown Scottish Communist miner’s leader, and whoever, using the same station that yer Inspector Barron wis based in, oot in Stirling, as an eavesdropping base.  Baith the Cardiff calls and the voice behind them, wur picked up by the equipment being used by a Special Branch inspector friend ae mine.  These wur the Welsh wans and wur made fae a phone box, traced tae Castle Street, Cardiff.”

  Silence.

  “And the others?” Silas’s voice hid croaked.

  “The other calls wur either phoned in tae other cop shoaps or tae newsrooms and news desks ae rags like The Glesga Echo before Connor’s arrest. Whitever happened tae Ann Broon…the answer is tae be found in Cardiff.  That friend ae mine felt sorry fur Inspector Barron, so threw him a crust by informing him that they’d picked up a call before yer boy Connor’s arrest. He couldnae let oan that there hid been a team ae eavesdroppers operating in the vicinity.”

  “Bit, dis that mean the caller’s voice wis recor…”

  “Silas, listen tae me,” The QC interjected, cutting The Brief short. “Make a connection between Cardiff and Robert Connor and that’ll solve whitever happened tae that young lassie,” The QC continued, nodding that heid ae his, before drapping his voice again. “Ah also heard, oan good authority, that it wis the same male voice oan the two recordings…full tilt, guttural, Glaswegian accent.  So, ye see Silas, it couldnae hiv been Robert Connor, as he wis awready banged up in C-Hall, the untried hall in Barlinnie, when the last calls wur made.  There’s a creepy tape wae this really distinct voice oan it, so there is.”

  “Distinct? How distinct?”

  “Wake up, Maggie, Ah think Ah’ve goat something tae say tae ye…” The QC sang quietly and badly.

  “Ah’m sorry, John, bit ye’ve lost me here,” Silas hid said, baffled and shaking that heid ae his, no hivving a bloody clue as tae where The QC wis coming fae.

  “Rod Stewart…Maggie May?”

  “Eh?”

  “A voice that rasped away, sounding like a sheet ae sandpaper being scraped across a lump ae rough pine, by aw accounts.”

  “Ah’m sorry, John.  Ah cannae believe whit Ah’ve jist heard.  Ah think Ah’m gonnae throw up,” he said, taking oot his handkerchief and wiping his brow.

  “That pal ae mine?  Ex-cop, so he is.  They aw ur in Special Branch, whereas the MI5 boys ur aw straight oot ae the private schools network doon in Englandshire. Even though he haunded o’er the tapes tae his superiors, the cop in him couldnae leave it at that, so he alerted yer boy, Inspector Barron, tae the fact aboot the Cardiff connection.  By the time they’d goat the transcripts ae the tapes, highlighting the second Welsh call, that pal ae mine hid been promoted tae superintendent and moved oot tae Kowloon, attached tae the Hong Kong Polis.

  Silence.

“Bit, that wid suggest that Connor wisnae working oan his lonesome and that there must’ve been an accomplice, John,” Silas hid yelped in excitement, efter gieing his foreheid a slap, drawing the attention ae Alex McCann, Celtic’s midfielder and his young love-sick bit-ae-stuff, Jeremy Thompson, Rangers’ recent signing fae Man United, who wur eating jist across fae them. “Or, Robert Connor is innocent ae the crime that he’s been convicted ae?” he continued.

  “Who knows?  We’ll probably never find that oot, unless the basturt or basturts who wur responsible fur the disappearance ae Ann Broon, come forward and confess whit really happened tae her.”

  “Bit, Robert Conner wis a loner, John?  Why wid a well-known loner hiv an accomplice?”

  “Good lord, ye’re no seriously suggesting that Robert Connor could be innocent, Silas?” The QC hid asked him, his voice lowered tae practically a whisper.

  “Bit a body wis never found, John,” Silas hid reminded him, trying no tae sound defensive.

  “A body wis never found, bit it didnae stoap ten fine wummin and two good men unanimously deciding that he wis their man, later tae be confirmed by three High Court appeal judges.”

  “A man…a boy, that everywan and his dug hid taken an instant dislike tae as soon as they clapped eyes oan him. Ye said so yersel.”

  “Aw, come oan, Silas.”

  “So, ye wurnae surprised at the verdict then?”

  “Some ye win, some ye lose, that’s ma motto in life.  Jist as long as the bills get squared up at the end ae the week and Ah kin move oan tae represent some other guilty innocent in another juicy wee trial, Ah’m Mr Happy. Put it this way, Ah never lost any sleep o’er the verdict, if that’s whit ye’re getting at,” John hid admitted, laying doon his cutlery oan the plate noisily and lifting up his napkin tae gie they pudgy, blood-stained lips ae his a wee dab. “Pudding?”

  “Bit the evidence?  The forensics?  Surely a good QC wid’ve demoli…er, challenged that vigorously?”

  “Ye’ve no listened tae a thing Ah’ve jist said, hiv ye?  A hair, matching wan fae the lassie’s pillow at hame wis found in the back ae his auld plasterer’s van, in amongst his dust sheets, buckets and tools.  The forensic boys, literally pulled that van apart, so they did…”

  “And only came up wae a single strand ae hair?” Silas hid scoffed dismissively.

“Ask yersel this, Silas.  Why wid a sweet, decent, innocent wee lassie like Ann Broon voluntarily get intae the back ae a manky plasterer’s van, belonging tae somewan as creepy as Robert Conner?  That wis the question The Crown kept asking the jury.  They wur only asking oot loud whit everywan else in that courtroom wis thinking…including yours truly.  There wis a key witness who swore he’d been stalking her, following her aboot, turning up at aw times ae the day and night o’er a considerable period ae time.  That witness, whit wis his name noo?” The QC hid wondered oot loud, clicking they art nouveau diamond-encrusted ringed fingers ae his, tae help jog his memory. “Philips! That’s him…Ernie Philips…Connor’s labourer and driver.  He claimed that Connor wid regularly instruct him tae take a wee detour first thing in the morning or last thing in the efternoon, if they wur oot and aboot, when the school bus wis oan the go, carrying the school kids back fae Stirling High tae Cambusbarron. The reason?  Because he wanted tae see whit Ann Broon wis up tae…that’s why.  That’s where the stalking element came intae it.”

“Robert Connor sacked Ernie Philips the same day that he passed his driving test.  The only reason Philips wis employed by Connor in the first place wis because he could drive.  Ernie Philips wis a bitter, disgruntled ex-employee, wae a grudge, John.”

  “And the strand ae hair in the back ae the van?  How did that come tae be there, then, Silas?” The QC hid asked, eyebrows lifted, watching his friend closely.

  “Robert Connor and Ann Broon wur messing aboot the day before, in front ae The Bruce Church, efter she missed the school bus.  Witnesses saw them arseing aboot. Despite The Crown trying their best, it wis never proven that he’d been trying tae coerce or even pull her in tae the van. That’s how the dust fae his dungarees came tae be oan the sleeve and shoulder ae her school uniform…the sleeve that wid’ve been covered in Ann Broon’s hair,” Silas hid suggested, leaving that supposition hinging in the air.

  “There wis absolutely nae evidence that she wis sexually active or attracted tae anywan at school or hung aboot wae anywan ae the opposite sex ootside, or even in the village ae Cambusbarron, where she lived.  Her pal swore that baith her and Ann Broon wur still virgins, so she did.  Christ, Silas, the whole ae the court, including the packed public benches, alang wae aw the wummin and the two men oan the jury, aw burst intae tears when that wee pal ae hers, Margaret Dunn, broke doon in hysterics efter pointing across the courtroom at the accused in the dock, telling everywan that fourteen-year-auld Ann Broon wis absolutely terrified ae Robert Conner.  Christ, the prosecution didnae even need tae turn up.  It wis aw done and dusted efter that wee dramatic performance, so it wis.  Did ye know that Teddy Taylor successfully used it tae get a vote oan bringing back hanging in The Commons, so he did?” Hector hid reminded him, waving across the waiter, as he pointed tae the empty red wine bottle oan the table.