Girls Of The Dark (12 page)

Chapter 30

P
resent at the de-brief meeting in DCS Douglas’s office were DCI Bevan, Alice and Andy. The female sergeant was doing most of the talking.

              ‘Sara White was the name that Lisa Abbot used with her married lover, Nick McKenna. We assumed it was purely an alias and never gave it much thought at the time.’

              ‘But Abbot has taken out insurance policies and bank accounts in the name of Sara White?’ Douglas eyed his officers carefully.

              ‘Yes. In fact, Andy and I have discovered that Sara White is the woman’s real name.’ Alice looked sheepish. ‘We never thought to check her birth records. Sara White was born at the Glasgow Infirmary in 1983. Her mum was a teacher back then and her dad a carpenter. Sara changed her name by deed poll to Lisa Abbot in 2004. But it seems that she kept certain documentation in both names, a passport, for example, which she has used as identification to secure bank loans and insurance policies.’

              ‘I suppose it makes sense,’ Dani put in. ‘Fraudsters usually operate under a number of different aliases. We should have looked into the name McKenna provided us with more closely.’

              DCS Douglas pursed his lips. ‘We couldn’t pin anything serious on Abbot then. I encouraged you to scale back the investigation. Now that Mrs Nevin is dead, it’s a different matter. What is the connection between Sara White and the Tullochs - why would Glenda put the woman on her car insurance?’

              ‘We don’t know yet, sir. But we will need to speak with Mrs Tulloch again, with your permission of course.’ Andy tried to sound as reasonable as possible.

              ‘I’ll have to talk to the DCC. This has the potential to become a diplomatic nightmare. Keep digging into the link between this con-woman and the Tullochs and get Lisa Abbot in again for questioning. It seems like she could have been the one driving the car that knocked down Mrs Nevin. Hold off on speaking with Glenda Tulloch until I give you the word.’ He switched his gaze to Dani. ‘And from now on, I want you present at every stage of the investigation, DCI Bevan. I’m relying on you to be my eyes and ears out there.’

*

Alice Mann laid out every piece of paper relating to the case on the workstation. ‘I’ll create two piles – one for Lisa Abbot and another for Sara White.’ She gazed at the material for several moments. ‘It’s as if the woman was living parallel lives.’

              ‘Who is to say Lisa had only two identities? She could have possessed many more.’ Dani sighed. ‘The photographs on Abbot’s mantelpiece showed her at various stages of life. At one point, I’d say a decade or so back, she was arm-in-arm with a guy – dark haired and beefy, although I couldn’t quite see his face. They were both deeply tanned, almost like they were living somewhere hot.’

              ‘Which could explain the skin cancer,’ Andy added.

              ‘I spoke to Abbot this morning,’ Alice continued. ‘She refused to be questioned without a lawyer. Abbot also said that we couldn’t stop her going to the US for treatment. She’d get a court order if necessary.’

              ‘The woman is perfectly correct. We haven’t got enough evidence to detain her in the country. Her doctors may very well veto a police interview too. When does Abbot plan to leave?’

              ‘At the end of the month,’ Alice replied.

              ‘Then we need to have gathered enough material by that time to be able to stop her.’

              ‘I say we focus on the Tullochs.’ Andy got to his feet. ‘I’ve got a yen to check out the kids.’

              ‘Fine, I’ll come with you. We need to tread extremely carefully,’ Dani advised. ‘This family are in thick with the top brass.’

             
‘These people always are, Ma’am.’

Chapter 31

T
hey’d waited until Francesca Tulloch had exited the refurbished warehouse premises on Wallace Street which belonged to the fashion design company she worked for.

              Dani yanked the handle of the passenger door. ‘I’m going to go in and have a word with the owner. You follow the girl and see where she goes.’

              The lobby was minimalistic and achingly trendy. Dani noted the exposed brick walls and concrete floors. The reception desk appeared to have been hacked straight from a fallen tree, with only the barest of attempts made to smooth or treat its oval surface.

              ‘Can I help you?’ A woman was shuffling through a pile of papers behind the desk. She was thin, with short blond hair and thick dark liner around her eyes. Dani placed her at maybe forty years old, trying to look early thirties.  

              She took out her warrant card. ‘I need to ask you some questions. Angela Clarke, isn’t it?’

              The woman stepped forward, putting out her hand. ‘Angie. What’s the problem, Detective Chief Inspector?’

              Dani glanced around the place. There were a few people milling about in a studio on the mezzanine level above. ‘It would be better if we could speak in private.’

              Angie led the way to a sitting area beyond a glass partition. It contained a sofa and chairs along with a coffee machine. ‘This is the closest thing we’ll get to privacy here. It’s all open-plan.’

              Dani tried to place the woman’s clipped accent, deciding it was south of England, perhaps.

              ‘Can I get you a coffee?’

              ‘That won’t be necessary, thanks.’ Dani sat down. ‘How long have you been based here?’

              ‘I moved the business to these premises two years ago. Before that I was selling purely online. I used a lock-up near my flat to store the stock and my front room to do the mail-order. As the orders grew, I knew it was time to do things on a larger scale.’

              ‘That’s very impressive.’

              Angie smiled warily. ‘This isn’t about my business is it? I’ve recently brought in a financial advisor to handle all my tax and stuff. Don’t tell me he’s been up to anything illegal. I always thought the guy was a bit too slick.’

              Dani shook her head. ‘Not at all. I wanted to ask you a few questions about Francesca Tulloch, that’s all.’

              ‘Fran?’

              ‘Yes. She’s worked here for the last six months, is that correct?’

              Angie perched on the arm of the sofa. ‘Sure, that sounds about right. It was around May time that I received her CV.’

              ‘What are Francesca’s duties here?’

              ‘Well, Fran’s a Fashion graduate from the Uni. I’m kind of training her up, so she does some design work for me on the new collections. She also does some modelling. To be honest, the girl is brilliant with my digital marketing, which isn’t what I brought her in for. I might engage her permanently on our social media platforms. But I’ve not broached it with her yet.’

              ‘What kind of young lady would you say Francesca was – is she a partier? Lots of boyfriends?’

              Angie screwed up her face. ‘
Christ
, I’m glad no one asked those questions about me when
I
was 23 years old. It would have been a resounding ‘yes’ to all the above – the classic profile of a privileged south London party girl. Fran is quite the opposite. She drives her car straight here in the morning and then drives straight home later. The girl still lives with her mum and dad.’

              ‘How do you know she goes straight home after work?’

              ‘Because the rest of us tend to go for a drink on Thursday or Friday evenings. There are a couple of decent bars near here. We all have flats in the city and get the subway or cycle home. I’ve suggested that Fran get the bus in one day so she can join us. I’ve offered to pay her cab fare home. But she’s not taken me up on it.’ Angie shrugged her shoulders. ‘Young people are pretty sensible these days, aren’t they?’

              ‘Yes, most of them are. It’s something to do with the recession, I’m told.’

              Angie laughed. ‘Yeah, too true. Not like London in the nineties. That was like Sodom and Gomorrah!’ The woman looked almost wistful. ‘She keeps her cards close to her chest does our Fran. I’d never be totally sure what she thought about anything. But then she’s clever, wears my clothes very well and is hardworking. Obviously, that’s enough to keep me happy.’     

              ‘I can see that it would be.’ Dani stood up. ‘Thank you very much for being so candid.’

              ‘Fran’s not in any trouble is she?’

              ‘No, nothing like that. She’s just connected to a case we’re working on. There’s no question of Francesca being a direct part of it.’

              ‘Right, okay then.’

              ‘But if we could keep this conversation just between ourselves I’d be most grateful. We wouldn’t want to alarm the girl unnecessarily.’

              ‘Yeah, of course.’ Angie furrowed her brow. ‘We certainly wouldn’t want to do that.’

*

Dani stood at the end of the road for twenty more minutes, watching the sun set over the river before Andy brought the car to a standstill at the kerb beside her.

              ‘Where did she go?’ Dani pulled the door shut, grateful for the warmth being pumped out of the heater.

              ‘Francesca Tulloch went directly to the underground carpark, emerged five minutes later in her car and proceeded to drive straight home to Maryhill, stopping at every red light and staying within the speed limit for the entire journey.’

              ‘Yeah, that’s what her boss said she’d do.’

              ‘I waited outside the house for a while. She didn’t come out again. I could see lights on in the living room. It looked like Glenda and the girls were settling in for the evening.’

              ‘The other daughter is thirteen, right? There’s no chance she could be driving around Glasgow knocking people over?’

              ‘No. From what I could see, the lassie didn’t seem the type. Unless pink fluffy onesies are now the required dress code for joy riding.’

              Dani chuckled. ‘I’d say the girls are in the clear. It might be time to turn our attention to the Tulloch men. We’ve not heard much from them yet. Let’s be sociable and introduce ourselves properly.’

              Andy slammed the car into gear, accelerating along the empty street and back towards the city.

Chapter 32

W
hen she was mildly pissed off, Sally Irving-Bryant felt she did some of her best work. As she got older, cases just didn’t seem to tug at her emotions in the way they once had. When the case involved her father, it was a different matter.

              Sally had demanded her dad go home to their family house in Leith. She had a troop of clerks looking into the background of Aaron Lister. There was no need for Jim to be tiring himself out with that kind of grunt work.

              The lawyer ripped open a bulky A4 envelope on her desk and tipped out the photographs and papers. There were a stack of still images showing Calvin Suter’s movements over the past week. Sally had him under almost constant surveillance. It was costing her a bloody fortune but what the hell. This was personal.

              The man hadn’t done a great deal. He’d rented a flat in Mauchline and spent a few days buying items at a nearby homewares store. When Suter drove towards the woods at Ayr Gorge, Mike and his team thought they might be onto something. Perhaps the guy was visiting another dump site. But he’d been meeting Professor Rhodri Morgan for a walk. Suter went straight back to his flat afterwards.

              Sally didn’t have the authority to tap his phones, or pull his mobile records. She could have asked Dani, but knew it could cost her brother’s girlfriend her career to do such a thing. She forced herself to forget it. They’d make do with what they’d got.

              Suter had also made a number of trips into the city to meet with his lawyers and a few publishers and newspaper editors. Sally assumed he had a book in the pipeline. She was already onto all of her libel lawyer friends. This bastard would never see his grubby memoirs on the shelves of Smiths. Not as long as she still had breath in her body.

              Sally sat back and considered the families of Suter’s victims. Why should they have to be greeted with his smug face on a publicity poster whenever they entered a book store or opened a Sunday newspaper? The very idea made her shudder.

              In fact, she had all their names and addresses listed there. All the surviving relatives of Heather Conlon, Cheryl Moss, Kirsty Glendinning and Debbie Cane.

              This would be Sally’s next move, to speak with each of them and gain their support to approach the High Court to press for a gagging order to be placed on Suter. Their endorsement would really strengthen her case with the magistrate.

              Sally removed a chunky diamond earing and lifted the phone, deciding there was no time like the present to get the hell started.

*

Dani brought over a tray of coffees and sandwiches. They were seated in the cafeteria of the Business Regeneration Centre in Govan. Brian Tulloch had been in and out of meetings there all morning.

              DCS Douglas had supplied them with Tulloch’s itinerary for the day, but ordered his officers to under no circumstances make contact with the man.

              Andy sipped his drink. ‘It makes you wonder why these people work so hard to get a job like this. I’d rather slit my wrists than spend so much time sitting around a glass table listening to management bullshit.’

              ‘I think there’s a bit more to it than that.’

              Andy slid across the BLT. ‘If you say so.’

              ‘But following Tulloch certainly seems to be a waste of our time. Without interviewing the guy, we aren’t going to get a damn thing.’

              Andy nodded, his mouth full of sandwich.

              The phone in Dani’s pocket started to bleep. ‘Hi Alice, have you got something for us?’ She listened for a few moments before ending the call.

              Andy raised his eyebrows expectantly.

              ‘Eat up,’ Dani said with determination. ‘We’re going to take a little road trip.’