Summat’s up.
Fox called Kaye’s number but he wasn’t answering. He turned the ignition key, did a three-point turn, and headed back towards Kirkcaldy.
The cop-shop car park was full, so he parked on the street outside. Single yellow line, so he had to hope he wouldn’t get a ticket. The sign next to the front desk stated that the Alert Status had been raised from MODERATE to SUBSTANTIAL. The storeroom was unlocked and empty, so he made for the interview room. Opening the door, he saw Paul Carter slumped in a chair. On the other side of the table sat Isabel Pitkethly.
‘Out,’ Pitkethly ordered.
Fox muttered an apology and closed the door again. Kaye and Naysmith were coming along the corridor towards him.
‘Might have warned me,’ Fox growled.
‘I just did,’ Kaye responded. Sure enough, Fox had another text message.
IR a no-no!
‘Thanks,’ Fox said, stuffing the phone back into his pocket. ‘So what’s going on?’
‘You should see CID,’ Naysmith interrupted. ‘They’re going mental.’
‘It would be nice if someone told me why.’
‘Some spotty little reporter,’ Tony Kaye obliged. ‘There’s a petrol station on Kinghorn Road and he went there to fill up his putt-putt-’
‘And,’ Naysmith butted in again, ‘he asks the attendant if he saw anything the night Alan Carter died. Turns out the guy did.’
‘Paul Carter,’ Kaye added. ‘He saw Paul Carter.’
‘Looking agitated.’
‘Stopped his car at the pumps, got out but didn’t do anything about filling it.’
‘Pacing up and down.’
‘Looking at his phone.’
‘Punching the buttons but not seeming to get an answer…’
‘We already know Paul Carter phoned his uncle,’ Fox felt it necessary to state.
‘But he was heading for the cottage,’ Naysmith stressed.
‘So half an hour ago it was a clear case of suicide, and now the nephew’s a murder suspect?’ Fox’s stare moved from Kaye to Naysmith and back again.
‘He’s going to go to jail,’ Kaye argued, ‘in no small part because of his uncle…’
‘If nothing else,’ Naysmith added, ‘it probably means he went to the cottage. Whatever they talked about, it ended with a gunshot and a corpse.’
They heard footsteps. Two men and a woman had come through the swing doors, led by Sergeant Alec Robinson. Robinson was stony-faced. The new arrivals took the measure of Fox, Kaye and Naysmith, then knocked on the interview-room door and went in. Robinson avoided eye contact with Fox as he headed back to his desk.
‘Glenrothes?’ Kaye speculated.
‘Aye,’ Fox said.
A minute later, the same three officers were leading Paul Carter out. He saw Fox and his colleagues and came to a stop.
‘I’m being stitched up here,’ he snarled. ‘I never did nothing!’
The two male officers gripped him by either forearm and led him away.
‘Hands off me!’
The woman offered a glance back in Fox’s direction as she followed them.
‘Know her?’ Kaye asked, his mouth close to Fox’s left ear.
‘Name’s Evelyn Mills,’ Fox admitted. ‘She’s Complaints, same as us.’
‘And she wears Chanel.’
Pitkethly was standing in the doorway of the interview room. The look she gave Fox told him it had been her decision to bring Glenrothes in. He nodded to let her know he’d have done the same.
‘What does he say?’ he asked.
‘Got a call from his uncle’s number. Caller hung up. Another call, same thing happened.’ She folded her arms. ‘Wondered what was going on, decided to go ask him in person, but got halfway and changed his mind.’
‘Maybe that’s what happened, then.’
‘Maybe.’
‘You don’t sound convinced.’
She glowered at him and decided against answering. Fox, Kaye and Naysmith watched her stride down the corridor away from them.
‘Home sweet home,’ Kaye said, making to enter the interview room. Fox saw that Naysmith was lifting a heavy-looking shoulder bag from the floor at his feet.
‘That stuff you wanted,’ the young man explained. ‘Took me half the night, a ream of paper and a change of printer cartridges.’ He made to hand the contents of the bag to Fox. ‘You’ll never guess how many hits there were on Francis Vernal’s name.’
He looked stunned when Fox got it exactly right.
It was over an hour before Mills had the chance to call Fox. He hesitated a moment before answering.
‘Your girlfriend?’ Kaye guessed.
‘Yes, Inspector Mills?’ Fox said into the phone, letting her know he had company.
‘I’m not sure what this means for the surveillance,’ she told him.
‘Me neither.’
‘If we catch Carter talking to Scholes and owning up to something …’
‘Might be inadmissible,’ Fox concurred.
‘I’ve got the Procurator Fiscal’s office working on the pros and cons, but knowing them, it’ll take a while.’ She paused. ‘Might be safer just to pull the plug.’
‘On the other hand,’ Fox reasoned, ‘the tap is on Scholes’s phone, not Carter’s. And Scholes isn’t the one CID have in their sights.’ It was Fox’s turn to pause. ‘How’s it looking for Carter?’
‘His superintendent tells us you were the one who came up with the left-hand/right-hand thing on the revolver.’
‘That’s true.’
‘It’s all circumstantial, of course…’
‘Of course,’ he agreed.
‘But it might add up to something.’
‘Foul play?’
‘Yes.’
‘A murder inquiry?’
‘Quite possibly.’
‘Based here?’ Fox looked around the small room.
‘It’s the nearest station. We’d have to send in our own team, naturally.’
‘Naturally. CID and the Complaints working together?’
‘If that’s what the bosses decree.’
‘Scholes, Michaelson, Haldane…?’
‘Sidelined.’
‘Sounds as if it’s going to be pretty hectic around here.’
‘You plan to stay put?’
‘Until told otherwise.’
‘Malcolm… you realise you’re a witness? We’ll need to ask you about Alan Carter.’
‘No problem.’
‘Scholes is already stirring things.’
‘Oh?’
‘Says you were on the scene pretty fast.’
‘Not half as fast as him and Michaelson.’
‘Difference is, they’d been called to the cottage.’
‘I’m happy to answer any questions, Inspector Mills.’
‘See you soon, then,’ she said, ending the call.
Fox relayed everything to Kaye and Naysmith, then told them he was stepping outside for a breath of air. Across the other side of the car park, Brian Jamieson was standing next to his scooter. There was a woman alongside him with some sort of recorder slung over one shoulder and headphones clamped to her ears. She was holding a microphone in front of Jamieson.
Local radio was interviewing local stringer.
Fox walked over. Jamieson had already spotted him and was telling the woman who he was. The microphone swung towards him.
‘I need a word,’ Fox told Jamieson.
‘Inspector,’ the young woman said, ‘can I just ask you for a comment on the arrest of Paul Carter?’
Fox shook his head and then angled it into the car park, knowing Jamieson would follow. That way, he would look important, and Fox got the feeling he’d want to look important in front of his colleague-cum-competitor.
‘We saw him being lifted,’ Jamieson was saying as he caught up with Fox. ‘Is that him off to Glenrothes?’
‘What made you go into the petrol station?’
‘Pit stop. After you left the scene, I was there the best part of two hours. Needed a caffeine hit.’
‘The attendant knew Paul Carter?’
Jamieson shook his head. ‘It was the car he described, rather than the man.’
‘So you can’t be sure it actually was Carter?’
Jamieson stared at him. ‘The forecourt’s covered by CCTV. I had to wait for the garage owner to okay me seeing the playback. That’s why I didn’t come forward sooner. No doubt about it, Inspector – it’s Paul Carter caught on camera.’