On A Dark Sea (The DCI Dani Bevan Detective Novels Book 2) (3 page)

Chapter Five

D
C Andy Calder returned to his desk, dipping his head to acknowledge Phil Boag as he passed. Calder reached for the file they had compiled on the Riddells. He spent a few minutes reviewing the information he had on Fiona.

              Mrs Riddell was the sales manager of a small electronics company based on the outskirts of Motherwell. She drove to work each day, leaving the house just after her daughter departed for the walk to school. Fiona was 45 years old and had not re-married or changed her name since the divorce from Charles. Phil said she’d always told him and Jane that she wanted to keep the same surname as Maisie. If Fiona decided to get married again in the future, she would review the decision, but she never had.

              Andy lifted the telephone receiver and called the Managing Director of the company where Fiona worked. He explained that his questions were mere formalities and not an indication that his employee was under suspicion of any sort. Calder jotted down some details. He thanked the man for his time and ended the call. Andy sat back in his seat.

              The Detective Constable was only working his second major case since being hospitalized for a massive heart attack a year and a half ago, at the age of just 34. Since his recuperation, Calder had changed his lifestyle completely. He’d shed two and a half stone and spent an hour each day in the gym. Calder’s upper body strength had improved considerably.

              Despite this new health regime, Andy was convinced that the heart attack would mean he never rose through the ranks like his contemporaries had. His boss, DCI Bevan, was a case in point. She was only two years older than him and had gained promotion quickly and seemingly with ease. Not that Andy begrudged her this success. He liked Dani a great deal and felt she was a crucial ally for him on the force. The people that Calder had begun to resent, were the self-consciously careerist coppers who knew the right things to say to the right folk and had been to the right schools and universities.               Little did Andy know that the niggling, festering bitterness he now harboured for those colleagues was very likely as damaging to his weak heart as his previous lifestyle had been. His wife, Carol, who stayed at home with their eighteen month old daughter, Amy, had noticed this subtle change in her husband’s personality. She would happily have forfeited his newly toned, muscly physique to have the easy-going, unambitious Andy back. But that man appeared to be gone for good.

              Fiona Riddell had been at her office until 5pm on the Wednesday that Maisie went missing. This fitted with the woman’s claim that she’d returned to the house at roughly half past, ringing around her daughter’s friends at six, when the girl was still not home. But there was now a slight discrepancy in the timeline they’d been given. Fiona’s boss was forced to admit that Mrs Riddell had not arrived at her desk until 10am on that particular day. He said it was no big deal to him as Fiona was a well-respected manager who regularly worked over and above her expected hours of employment, only because DC Calder was asking for specific details, did her superior feel inclined to mention it.

              Andy knew he had to tread carefully. The detective sifted through the file and located the Riddells’ home number. The woman answered after a couple of rings.

              ‘Mrs Riddell? It’s DC Calder here.’

              ‘Has there been any news?’

              ‘I’m afraid not. I’m just calling to clarify some of the details from your original statement.’

              ‘Okay.’ Fiona’s tone was cautious.

              ‘I’ve spoken with Malcolm Lorne, who told me that you arrived at work an hour later than usual this Wednesday.’ Calder let the words settle between them.

              ‘I had to stop at the shops on the way in. There was something I needed to buy.’

              ‘Could you tell me which shop?’ Andy tried to make the request sound as casual as possible.

              ‘Is that really necessary? Look, fine, I stopped at the industrial estate just off junction 22 of the M8. I bought a birthday present for my sister’s little girl, had a coffee, and filled up with petrol. I may have some of the receipts still in my purse. The petrol payment was made by card, so it will definitely be on my bank statement.’

              ‘Great. That should clear things up. Sorry to bother you.’

              ‘That’s okay.’ Fiona hesitated for a moment before adding, ‘Charlie is here at the house with me right now. We felt we should be together if Maisie tried to ring, so if you need us for anything else then you know where to find us. Please call if there’s any news at all.’

              ‘We’ll certainly do that and thank you again for your cooperation, Mrs Riddell.’

*

Dani ran a hand through her dark, cropped hair. She was examining the amended timeline that Andy had just handed her.

              ‘I’ve asked Alice Mann to check with Fiona’s bank about the payment made at the petrol station. We should get a time confirmation from that. I think it’ll be enough to explain her movements,’ Calder said.

              ‘Was it usual for Fiona to be late into work? Why did she run those errands on that particular morning?’ Dani looked her colleague in the eye, knowing he had good instincts for these things.

              ‘I got the impression it wasn’t the norm, Ma’am. Her boss described Mrs Riddell as usually extremely fastidious about time-keeping, which is why he was very reluctant to mention her lateness on this occasion.’

              ‘Well, it’s probably nothing, just the sudden realisation she needed to get her niece a present. But we’ll have to bear it in mind. Any behaviour that was out of the ordinary on that day can’t be ignored.’

              ‘What about the husband, Ma’am? Can we account for his whereabouts at the time Maisie disappeared?’

              ‘Phil’s been looking into Charlie Riddell’s schedule. According to his enquiries, the man was at work on Wednesday until late, at the head offices of Barents Oil in Stavanger, which is where he always is.’

              ‘The couple seem on reasonably good terms, considering they’re so long divorced,’ Andy mused.

              ‘For the time being, Fiona and Charlie are united by a common cause; to find their missing daughter. If Maisie doesn’t come home within the next few days and the situation starts to drag on, that’s when the recriminations will begin.’

              Andy nodded grimly, quite certain his boss was right. 

Chapter Six

T
he Boags lived in a large Victorian villa in the south Glasgow suburb of Pollockshaws. Phil was clearing away the dishes after having dinner with his two teenage daughters. The ground floor rear of the property consisted of a huge open-plan kitchen-diner. The fixtures and fittings were of the highest possible specification and had been part of a massive renovation project that Phil and Jane completed the previous year.

              Phil glanced up at the clock above the impressive range cooker and noted it was quarter to seven. He didn’t expect his wife to be home from work for hours yet. He placed a sheet of plastic wrap over her plate of food and slotted it into the fridge. He looked over his shoulder at the girls, who were still seated at the table, both engrossed in their tablet computers.

              ‘What do you want for pudding?’ He called over cheerfully, rummaging around in the freezer section. ‘How about a piece of Granny’s sponge heated up with a scoop of ice-cream?’ Phil wasn’t expecting a reply but he knew that Georgie would probably want some and seventeen year old Sorcha certainly would not. He’d learnt long ago not to pressurize his daughters when it came to food. They were both naturally lean like their parents. There was no need for them to become self-conscious about their physiques.

              Sorcha asked to be excused and Phil was left at the table with his youngest child. She ate her dessert in silence.

              ‘How are you doing?’ He rested his hand gently on her shoulder.

              Georgie made a twisting motion, as if to shake him off, but her dad kept it there. ‘I’m not going back to that place.’ She stared resolutely at the half-eaten contents of the bowl.

              ‘Come on, you know you’ve got to. It will help to be amongst your other friends, otherwise you’ll have too much time to think and worry.’

              Georgina glanced up. ‘I haven’t
got
any other friends. Everyone hates me because of Mum.’ The tears began to fall down her cheeks and Phil pulled her close. She put down her spoon and pressed her face into his shoulder. ‘Why did she go away, Dad? Maisie knew I couldn’t handle school without her.’

              ‘She must have had her own reasons, love. Stuff that was more important than problems at school.’

              Georgina went quiet for a moment then she said, in almost a whisper, ‘Maisie thought her mum had a boyfriend.’

              Phil tried to mask his surprise. ‘You never told us this before. Was Maisie unhappy about it?’

              Georgie shrugged her shoulders. ‘She only suspected. That’s why I didn’t tell Mr Calder when he interviewed me. Maisie said her mum was behaving differently than normal the last few months. She was sure it was because she was seeing somebody. Do you think it could have anything to do with why Maisie left?’

              ‘I don’t know, darling, but everything is important when a child goes missing. I’ll have to tell my DCI about it.’

              Georgie nodded, sniffing loudly. ‘Okay, I don’t mind. I just want my friend back.’ The girl began sobbing again and Phil held her tight, gently rocking his little girl back and forth until she was calm and still.

              Phil suggested that Georgina have a bath and an early night. For once, she’d not objected to the idea. When he went into Georgie’s high-ceilinged room to tuck her in, Phil told his youngest that if she didn’t feel up to it in the morning she could take the day off - go to her Gran and Grandad’s in Newton Mearns, perhaps. But Georgie had surprised him by saying she’d be fine. She wanted things to carry on as normal. Otherwise the whole situation would feel even worse.

              Phil had nodded and turned out her light, thinking this was very sensible. He knew his daughter had to get on with her life sooner rather than later. There were absolutely no guarantees that Maisie Riddell would ever be found. Phil padded down the stairs and went into the kitchen. He observed Sorcha through the double doors which led into the lounge, long-limbed and sprawled out across the sofa, commandeering the television set. Phil didn’t mind. He went to one of the hand-made cabinets and poured out a small measure of Scotch, perching up at the breakfast bar to drink it.

              The Detective Sergeant had long since stopped wondering what is was that his wife did during these late nights at her office. He knew it was paperwork of some kind and the answering of crucial correspondence. The long days didn’t seem to bother Jane at all. She enthusiastically threw herself into the weekends that they shared as a family. But Phil found it hard to compartmentalize his life in this way. They’d had some bad news today as a family, yet she wasn’t here. The fall-out from Maisie’s disappearance, the police enquiries and conversations with Fiona that followed, had eaten into Jane’s busy schedule. His wife would need to work even later in order to compensate.                

              Phil used to worry about Jane when she came home after dark. He would stay up reading a book and wouldn’t really settle until he’d heard her key turning in the lock. Phil took a gulp of whisky, feeling its warmth soothe him, as he considered how in the past few months this had no longer been the case. When he fell into bed at night these days he went straight to sleep, barely giving Jane’s whereabouts a second thought. It was in Phil’s nature to worry about his girls, to want to keep them safe. But his wife was late home so often that to dwell on it would have turned him into a nervous wreck. So he didn’t, which he knew should really concern him even more.

              Phil had spent much of the day digging into the life of Charles Riddell. He too seemed utterly driven by his career. Charles had grown up in a middle class suburb of Glasgow and attended the university in the city. That was where he had met Fiona Adams. They got married in the late nineties and moved to Aberdeen when Charles got a job with a major oil and gas company there. Maisie was born a couple of years later. Phil knew from the conversations he and Jane had with Fiona that she and Charles drifted apart as his job started to consume his every waking hour.

              Charles Riddell’s hard work paid off and in 2009 he was offered a key position within one of Norway’s main oil companies. Fiona refused to go with him. She already felt cut off from her friends and family in Glasgow. It had seemed to her like the natural moment to end their marriage. Charles re-married in 2011. His new wife was 34 years old and called Kristin. The couple had had a baby boy the previous summer.

              There appeared to Phil to be no reason for Charles Riddell to be involved in the disappearance of his daughter. There was no evidence that Maisie had been in contact with her father about her plans either.

              Phil was just considering pouring another wee dram when he heard the front door opening. The noise made him jump. He glanced at the clock and noted it was 9.45pm. He didn’t imagine for a second it could be Jane. Perhaps it was his mum and dad, dropping by to see if Georgina was okay. Phil levered himself off the stool and paced through to the hallway to greet them.

              Jane Boag was removing her long woollen coat and scarf, hanging them onto a peg. ‘Hi,’ she said quietly, before glancing about her. ‘How is Georgie?’

              Phil stepped forward and planted a kiss on his wife’s lips, not mentioning his surprise at seeing her there. ‘She’s gone to bed. I managed to persuade her to have an early night.’

              Jane looked disappointed but said, ‘good. She needed to rest. Any news about Maisie yet?’

              Phil shook his head. ‘We can’t find any evidence of her having left Glasgow by train or bus, which is pretty unusual in the case of a runaway.’

              Jane sighed. ‘I’m going to have to set up my computer and do some work from here darling, but I wanted to come back and be close to you all.’

              Phil slipped his arm around her waist and led his wife in the direction of the kitchen. ‘Well, I’m really glad you did. Sorcha is still up. She’ll certainly be pleased to see you.’