‘I’m Taylor — Taylor Craddock.’
‘We’ve met before, Bettina,’ he was saying to the widow. There was an untouched beaker of tea at her feet.
‘I remember,’ she said, rubbing at her eyes and sniffing. There were blue smudges on her knuckles, the remnants of ancient tattoos.
Craddock was explaining that the identification process had been traumatic. ‘Though he did look at peace, Bett, you have to say he didn’t suffer. .’
More platitudes followed, but Bettina Saunders was hearing none of them. She concentrated, red-eyed and blinking, on the wall across from her. There was nothing on it but a framed colour poster of a heathery landscape, puffy clouds and blue sky above. Fox decided to make Taylor Craddock the focus of his questions.
‘Billy didn’t make contact after he disappeared?’
She shook her head.
‘It’s just that we need to try to piece together his movements, maybe find out why he acted the way he did.’
‘Can’t this wait?’ Craddock chided him. ‘The woman’s in shock.’
‘I appreciate that, but the sooner we can get started, the better.’
‘Better for you or better for her?’ Craddock’s hackles were rising. Bettina Saunders placed a hand around her friend’s wrist.
‘It’s all right, Taylor. The man’s only trying to help.’ She fixed her eyes on Fox. ‘Billy was worried about going to court. Stands to reason that’s why he ran.’
‘But he didn’t exactly run, did he?’ Fox went on quietly. ‘He stayed in the city.’
‘Where else could he go? He was Edinburgh born and bred.’
‘Did he have friends nearby? Near that stretch of the canal, I mean?’
She thought for a moment, then shook her head.
‘And he never called you? Not even a text so you wouldn’t worry?’
‘Nothing.’ She looked down into her lap. ‘But he was up to high doh. Somebody phoned him one morning — that was the start of it.’
One of the mortuary attendants was standing in the doorway.
‘Inspector Fox?’ he enquired. ‘Got a minute?’
Fox smiled an apology towards the two women, hoping the relief on his face wasn’t too evident. The attendant led him to a small office, where a clear polythene bag sat on a desk.
‘Deceased’s possessions,’ the attendant explained. ‘Need you to sign for them.’
Fox studied the contents of the bag. There was a sheet of printout next to it, listing the individual items. Fox made sure it tallied.
‘Hundred and fifty in cash,’ he commented.
‘Despite which, judging by the state of his clothes, he was sleeping rough.’
‘Oh?’
‘Grubby, you might say.’
‘Speaking of which, where are they?’
‘Off to Forensics.’ The attendant paused. ‘We didn’t lift any of the money, if that’s what’s on your mind.’
Fox shook his head. ‘Last cashpoint he visited, he took out two hundred. Didn’t get through much of it, which tallies with sleeping rough.’ He lifted the bag. ‘Did the water bugger the phone?’
‘Might be okay when it’s dried out.’
There wasn’t much else — a handkerchief, chewing gum, house keys, loose change and the Bank of Scotland debit card, plus loyalty cards from Costa Coffee and Tesco.
‘No watch?’ Fox queried.
‘No watch.’
He double-checked the list before signing his name to the bottom of the sheet. ‘Autopsy finished yet?’
‘Might be another half-hour. They got the bullet though. Wedged between two of the vertebrae. You need to put the date.’
Fox added the date beneath his signature, which seemed to satisfy the attendant.
‘Were you there for the identification?’ he asked.
The attendant nodded.
‘How did the widow seem?’
‘She managed.’
‘Did she say anything?’
‘Nothing out of the ordinary. You think she did it — crime of passion and all that? You should be swabbing her hands for gunpowder. .’
Fox studied the young man. ‘You watch too many films.’
The attendant shrugged. ‘Not much excitement around here — though we’ve still got the Justice Minister on the premises. Body’s due to be released to the family today.’
‘Counts as a busy week, does it?’
‘Place has been in the news and everything. Mind you, still doesn’t make for much of a chat-up line, saying you work here.’
‘I imagine not.’
‘Unless you’re into Goths, I suppose. .’
15
‘The bullet is undergoing analysis,’ Siobhan Clarke announced to her team. They were gathered around her in an open-plan office on the first floor of Wester Hailes police station. There was a bit less room than any of them would have liked — competition had been fierce for the few comfortable-looking chairs. Hot-desking was necessary and no one had yet found a kettle. There were journalists outside on Dumbryden Drive, but not many. Shootings were rare in Scotland’s capital, but the demise of a minicab driver couldn’t compete with that of a senior politician. Fox didn’t doubt that the foul weather was also a factor. With a new cold front making itself felt, the rain was turning to sleet. And Dumbryden was not exactly salubrious — mesh grilles protected the cop shop’s ground- floor windows — meaning there would be no press conferences in new-build hotels. . not until such hotels were constructed.
‘I can’t tell you a lot more than that at present. It’s a nine-millimetre calibre, probably from a handgun. Pathologist commented that it didn’t look shiny new, but I’m not sure what that tells us. Until Ballistics and Forensics get back to us, therefore, I want to concentrate on the victim’s movements from the night he went missing until he ended up in the canal. He must have eaten — most recent intake comprised a cheese and onion sandwich and a packet of ready-salted crisps, plus a bottle of Irn Bru. .’
‘Sounds like a meal deal,’ Olivia Webster interrupted. ‘Sort of thing a garage or supermarket would sell.’
Clarke sought out Fox. ‘Any receipts among his possessions?’
Fox shook his head. ‘We don’t have his clothes, though — I suppose there could be something in one of the pockets.’
‘Can you check that?’ Clarke asked. Then, to the room at large: ‘We need door-to-door, starting at the locus and radiating out. The industrial estate will be part of that. They’re bound to have camera footage, or else night- time security we can talk to. Shops and petrol stations in the vicinity — get photos of Saunders out there.’
‘Local media?’ someone else asked.
Clarke nodded. ‘Newspapers and internet — TV if we can get it. Putting out a plea for anyone to come forward.’
‘There might be something on his phone,’ Fox said. ‘Doubtful — we already checked once with his mobile
