She grinned, twisting a lock of her silver hair between two fingers. ‘You checked them out? Seriously?’

  He returned her smile. ‘Actually she checked me out. She contacted me in Girona a few weeks ago, by email. When I saw the address at first I thought she was pitching for business. I almost binned it without reading it, until the name, Inge Hoverstad, threw a switch so I read it. All she was doing was introducing herself as Pilar’s mum. There was a mobile number. Rather than replying by email I called it, feeling full of guilt that I hadn’t reached out to them before, giving that our kids are now officially living together, with no pretence of being campus roommates. She’s met Nacho, of course, as we’ve met Pilar. We spoke for about fifteen minutes, we got on, and we agreed that the two of us will meet her and her husband at the first opportunity, either in Barcelona if her husband’s business . . . his name’s Raul, by the way . . . brings him there, or we’ll go to Madrid once we’ve officially moved to Spain. I’m sorry, love, I should have told you about this at the time, but the US expansion blew up at the same time, and then there was that other stuff with Merle Gower.’

  ‘No worries,’ Sarah said. ‘Let’s make it Madrid. It’ll give me an excuse to go and look at Picasso’s Guernica for another half hour. Do you know if she’s reached out to the Widow McCullough as well?’

  ‘Mia? I don’t, but if she has I’ll bet the only thing on offer will be a visit to Scotland. I don’t know if Spanish law enforcement was ever looking for her, but I doubt that she’ll want to find out.’

  Five

  ‘Do you ever have days when you hate your job, Graham?’ Lottie Mann asked.

  The pathologist beamed back at her as he stepped out of his protective shoes and stripped off his stained gloves. ‘Yes,’ he replied, ‘but this isn’t one of them. I love a challenge and that person in there is certainly one of those. I know, I know,’ he continued quickly, catching the detectives’ expressions of disbelief. ‘It stinks to high heaven, but that’s nature folks, it’s part of the process of decomposition. Every subject that comes to me has started down that road. You ask my esteemed colleague in Edinburgh, Sarah Grace, and she’ll tell you the same thing.’

  ‘Fair enough, Professor,’ John Stirling countered. ‘I get that, but where’s the challenge here? Somebody tied her to a chair then suffocated her with a plastic bag. That’s it, clear as day.’

  ‘Is it?’ he chuckled. ‘It’s one possible scenario I’ll grant you, but the Tesco bag proves nothing.’

  ‘Assumptions, John,’ Mann said. ‘What did I tell you?’

  ‘That’s right,’ Scott concurred. ‘It may be that the perpetrator, having despatched his . . . or her . . . or their . . . victim by another means couldn’t bear the sight of the dead face, maybe even the reproach in the vacant eyes,’ he added colourfully, ‘and chose to cover it up. To be frank, I can’t even guarantee that the cadaver is female, let alone the means of its execution. We’re going by the clothes, that’s all. It, he, they could be a cross-dresser, for all we know.’

  ‘Did you take it off, Graham?’ the DCI asked. ‘The bag.’

  ‘No, I’ve left it in place. My people will remove the body very carefully. I’m not going to disturb the remains until they’re on my table. There, I’ll peel everything off piece by piece and we’ll see what’s inside. It’ll be pretty messy, mind.’

  ‘We?’ the detective sergeant murmured.

  ‘Oh yes,’ the pathologist declared. ‘This is a criminal investigation. That being so, the Crown Office requires that my work be witnessed.’ He looked at Mann. ‘Tomorrow morning, I think, if you’re okay with that, Lottie. Ten a.m.?’

  She nodded. ‘That’ll do; I’ll include that information in the statement that I’ll have to give the press office.’

  ‘Yes, you will,’ Scott agreed. ‘There was a media presence when I came in here. I’m known to these people, so my very presence will have tipped them off that something serious is up.’

  ‘Neighbourhood chat and social media would have done that anyway,’ Mann grumbled. ‘We’ll be doing door to door enquiries on WhatsApp before I’m too much older. Graham,’ she continued, ‘if you’re going to reserve your position on the cause of death, is there anything that you can tell us now? For example, the period when we’re told that the vehicle was dumped indicates that the subject’s been dead for a couple of months.’

  ‘No, it’s longer than that,’ he declared. ‘Even from the little I could see of the flesh, we’re looking at a minimum of four months, probably longer. The body itself isn’t going to give us an exact date of death. It might not even give us a cause, unless it’s something that’s still clear and obvious. If it was asphyxia that killed the victim, the lungs aren’t going to be a reliable indicator, not after all this time. You’re right, Lottie, no assumptions. I’ll see you both tomorrow.’ He picked up his case and headed out of the covered enclosure.

  Six

  ‘Our officers have knocked on every door in the development, ma’am,’ Sergeant Brian Knox reported, stiffly formal. Mann surmised from his manner that he was still carrying a grudge over his interrupted golf tie. ‘Three up wi’ four to play and she calls me in,’ she had heard him grumble to his colleague, DC Brown. ‘About a quarter of them, we got no reply, but we’ll re-canvass those tonight. So far nobody’s had any knowledge of the vehicle and nobody saw it being parked.’ He paused, then continued. ‘But, we do know for sure when it was left, within a seven day window. Davie Brown had a bright idea, for once. His brother Alec works on the bin lorries. They still empty them once a week here, so Davie asked him if he could remember when the thing first appeared. The eighth of July, he said; that was the first day they saw it, so it must have been dumped between then and July the first, the previous Monday. Alec said the driver’s been bitchin’ about it ever since. It’s been tight for the lorry getting by.’

  The DCI nodded. ‘Give him a gold star from me,’ she said.

  ‘Wi’ that window you could check CCTV, couldn’t you?’ Knox suggested.

  ‘That’s possible,’ Mann agreed. ‘The only problem is, this being a new scheme there won’t be any in the immediate area. But,’ she continued, ‘all of this is one big cul-de-sac, fed off the main road. To be thorough, I want you to have people check on its coverage.’

  He nodded. His resentment seemed to have been set aside. ‘There’s a couple of traffic cameras on that stretch, I know that. I’ll look into it.’

  ‘Thanks Sergeant. The footage will be stored somewhere, either locally or in the Cloud. The problem may be, how long do they keep it. The public get very sensitive about the nanny state, so I’m pretty sure there’s a limit. Thirty days runs in my mind, unless there are very specific reasons for keeping it longer.’

  ‘I’ll check it anyway, ma’am.’

  ‘Do that, thanks. By the way,’ Mann added, ‘I’m sorry about the golf tie.’

  For the first time, Knox smiled. ‘Ach, that’s all right. It worked out okay. We’ve got a local rule that calls for a replay if a tie’s interrupted by an emergency. My opponent knew he couldn’t beat me in a month of Sundays, so he conceded. I’ll report back when I’ve got something concrete.’ He made to leave, took a few steps, then froze. ‘Ma’am,’ he called out, turning partly back towards her, but pointing away. ‘That house there, the one directly opposite the vehicle: It’s got a Ring doorbell, and that’ll have a camera built in. I know because I’ve got one, and it works bloody well. I’ve had to warn my neighbour when it caught him pretty much falling out of his car when he came home after a late night. Depending on how it’s set, the motion sensor might be triggered by someone as far away as the driver of the vehicle would have been when he got out. If they’ve got the right package, it’ll store video for up to six months. The occupants are on the list to be re-canvassed. I’ll come back this evening and do them myself if you want.’

  Mann looked back at him, with what might have been a hint of a smile in her eyes. ‘Thanks, Sergeant . . . Brian is it? . . . but we’ve done enough damage to your day off as it is. John and I will take care of that. But what you could do before you go, since you know the tech, is take a look at every house in this street to see who else has one of those Ring things. Even if the one across the street doesn’t have the right settings or the right package, there might be someone else who does.’

  She watched him as he set off on his task, but her mind was on Stirling and his search for the owner of the motor home. She was about to call him when her ringtone sounded. ‘Det Sup Haddock,’ the screen told her.

  ‘Sauce,’ she answered, switching the call to video.

  ‘Where are you, Lottie?’ the young detective superintendent asked.

  ‘On the outskirts of Irvine,’ she replied.

  ‘The body in the camper?’

  ‘That’s right. You know about it already?’

  ‘Yeah. I’m given a list of active investigations across the country at the end of every day. Helps me keep a handle on our clear-up rate, region by region. What’s it about, and why’s it for us rather than the locals?’

  ‘That’s what I asked when John called me, but yes, it is ours. The victim’s so far unidentified, but it’s homicide beyond a shadow, and a nasty one. At the moment we know a little less than fuck all, in that the pathologist won’t even tell us what gender the victim is, so all we can do is gather as much information as we can about the location, the circumstances and the vehicle.’

  ‘Can I help you with resources?’ Haddock asked.

  ‘To be honest I don’t know. Once the autopsy’s done and once I know whose vehicle it is, everything might fall into place very quickly.’

  ‘What’s your gut saying?’

  ‘Other than “Feed me”, you mean? My instinct and experience say that it won’t. This doesn’t look or feel like a spur of the moment crime. It was planned to delay discovery for as long as possible.’

  ‘By dumping it in a residential area? How was that supposed to work?’

  ‘It has,’ Mann pointed out. ‘It’s been here for two months, with the victim decomposing inside, but, Graham’s sure that death occurred well before that. Think about it, Sauce. If it had been left in a caravan park, it might have been one among many but the owner, would one, have wanted paying, two would have taken a closer look at it before now and three more than likely could identify the perpetrator. And if it had been left in the countryside, it would have stood out.’

  ‘Granted,’ the superintendent conceded. He paused as if he was considering something. ‘Okay,’ he said, finally. ‘Listen Lottie, I’m aware that you’re flying a bit light in Glasgow. I’ve been thinking about this for a few days but now I’m going to do it. I’ve got Jackie Wright here; she’s DS level and ready for a step up, but she needs broader experience to take her on to the next stage. I’m going to assign her to you for the rest of this year. She’s got seniority over Stirling, and I’d make her acting DI, but HR won’t wear that: budget constraints, as usual. I could involve the deputy chief and ask him to override them, but I’ve only got so many favours in the bank with Mario McGuire and this isn’t a sufficiently rainy day. You can manage her any way you like, but I want her ready for a promotion board by the end of the year. You good?’

  ‘More than,’ Mann exclaimed. ‘I know Jackie and I rate her.’ She smiled at the camera. ‘If I can have her in Glasgow by ten tomorrow morning she can come to the post-mortem with me. Jackie won’t throw up, but I reckon John Stirling might.’

  Seven

  ‘You’re off the hook, John.’

  ‘What do you mean, boss?’ Stirling asked, phone to his ear. ‘Why was I on it?’

  ‘What I mean is that you don’t have to go to the post-mortem tomorrow,’ Mann replied. ‘Sauce is giving us Jackie Wright for the rest of this year, so you’re stood down.’

  He smiled. ‘That’s good news,’ he confessed. ‘My imagination’s been painting some colourful pictures. For example I’ve been seeing the professor cutting off the clothes and what’s inside just running all over the floor and forming a big smelly puddle.’

  ‘It might not be that bad,’ the DCI chuckled. ‘But it won’t be pretty, that’s for sure.’

  ‘Jackie Wright,’ Stirling said. ‘I don’t think I know him. The name means nothing to me. Is he a DI?’

  ‘He’s a she,’ Mann told him. ‘And she’s a DS, for now, but as far as the command chain’s concerned, she’ll sit between you and me.’

  ‘Does that mean I report to her from now on?’

  ‘Not really: I see the three of us as a team. But, if Jackie asks you to do something, it won’t be a request.’

  ‘Understood, boss. I don’t have a problem with that.’

  ‘It wouldn’t matter a damn if you did,’ she said, ‘but it’s good to know. Now, the crime scene. Any progress in tracking the owner?’

  ‘Limited, truth be told,’ the DS admitted. ‘The manufacturer has dealerships in the UK but no subsidiary, so I had to get on to the factory in Germany. There I was connected to the PR department, where they speak most languages. They were helpful: my contact there said that they’re used to dealing with police enquiries; their vehicles are high value, so a few of them have been nicked. One was found in Poland, on its way to Russia through Belarus they believed. Her name was Deborah by the way, the PR person, not Dietmar,’ he added. ‘I meant to ask you, did you ever see him again?’

  ‘Not that it’s any of your business, but yes. He got in touch couple of years later, from Munich. I was with someone else by then, but we sneaked in a week in Gran Canaria. That was it, though. Enough,’ she said firmly, ending the digression. ‘Carry on.’

  ‘Yes boss. Deborah told me where to find the chassis number: under the carpet in front of the driver’s seat. Rather than go back down to Irvine and look for it myself, I got Dr Bramley’s number from the soco office in the Crime Campus and rang her. She found it for me. I fed it into the DVLA . . . and got a nil return.’

  ‘Which means it isn’t UK registered,’ Mann sighed.

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘So we have to check on a country by country basis until we find it?’

  ‘That’s what I thought, boss . . . until the lovely Deborah came up trumps. I called her back, and asked if she could think of any shortcuts. She said there’s one and it’s very obvious. The motor homes . . . she got humpty with me when I called it a camper van . . . are covered by manufacturer’s warranty, and have benefits attached. So, when each vehicle’s sold and put on the road . . .’

  The DCI finished the sentence. ‘Ownership details go back to the manufacturer.’

  ‘Exactly. I gave her the number that Doctor Bramley gave me and she came back to me inside ten minutes. It’s a Grose Kabine model and it’s owned by a company, registered in Jersey under the name Artisan de Boite Limited, in English, roughly that means Boxcraft.’

  ‘You speak French too, John?’

  ‘It’s about as good as your German.’

  ‘Mmm,’ she mused. ‘Maybe I should have shagged the French teacher as well. But then again maybe not; she was fat, fifty and had a moustache. Who owns Boxcraft?’

  ‘That, Deborah could not tell me,’ Stirling replied. ‘For that I’ll need to speak to the Jersey Financial Services Commission . . . but I won’t be able to do that until tomorrow; it’s closed for the day. That said, if you think it’s necessary, I could ask the State of Jersey police to dig up a contact in the Commission.’

  ‘It wouldn’t gain us anything other than an enemy, John,’ Mann observed. ‘Tomorrow morning will do.’ She paused. ‘Will they be able to tell us who owns the thing, though? Don’t these offshore companies often work through nominees?’

  ‘Yes they do, but my limited research suggests that in Jersey you can’t hide behind them. There’s a register of beneficial ownership and an agreement at government level between Jersey and the UK that allows for information sharing with police forces.’

  ‘You have googled Artisan de whatever, I take it?’

  ‘I did boss,’ the DS said, ‘but all I’ve come up with is a seventy-seven year old French cabinet maker in a place called Pérouges, near Lyon, and I very much doubt that it’s him we’re looking for.’

  Eight

  ‘Are you all right with that, DS Wright?’ Sauce Haddock asked.

  And if I wasn’t? she thought, but kept it to herself, knowing that few senior officers would even have asked the question.

  ‘I believe it’s a good move for you,’ the detective superintendent continued. ‘If it had been down to me you’d have made DS before you did. I see this as a shortcut in your future career path.’

  ‘But no promises?’

  ‘I can’t make any. There’s x number of DI positions around the country. I expect one to open up in the next six months, but with budgets under constant review by Holyrood, nothing in this service is nailed on.’ He frowned. ‘Bob Skinner’s pathological hatred of politicians used to amuse me, but now I’m with him one hundred per cent. Mind you, I’m not about to let it show in the way he did. I’m not that secure.’

  Jackie Wright stared at him. ‘Sauce,’ she laughed, ‘you must be the most secure polis I know, even more than the DCC. Your wife’s even richer than his, by a factor of ten, probably more. You could walk away tomorrow; we all know that.’

  ‘You do?’ he murmured, his expression suddenly so serious that she was afraid she had pushed friendship too far. ‘Well you’re all wrong. The very fact that Cheeky inherited most of Grandpa McCullough’s wealth, that ties me even tighter to my career. If I walked away from it what would I do? Pretend to manage a couple of the businesses she owns? Call myself a security consultant and do eff all but cruise around the pro-am golf circuit? No, I’ve always set out to be the best officer I can possibly be, and now I’m driven even harder.’ His smile returned. ‘Plus, we’re going to have another mouth to feed next year. Cheeky’s pregnant again . . . and you have the privilege of being the third person to know.’