When she finished, he closed his notebook, his bright blue eyes alive with news he was bursting to tell. ‘The DNA results came back. We have a hit.’
‘You got a match? Why didn’t you say instead of letting me rabbit on?’ Shona turned her face up to him, hand on hip.
‘Well, it’s not a match as such,’ he said, caution clouding his features. ‘She’s not on the database, but…’
Shona gave him a look that said, spit it out.
‘But we’ve got a partial match to someone listed as living in your area.’
Shona held up her hand to stop him, opening her office door. Kate had headphones in, the new CCTV from the baby milk investigation playing on her screen. Ravi was out somewhere, following up on the witness statements. ‘Murdo, a moment,’ she called. When he came in, she nodded for Dan to continue.
‘The girl in the Solway Firth. We’ve got a partial DNA match to Paddy Corr, fifty-six, address in Dumfries.’ Dan flicked open his notebook again. ‘String of previous. Convictions for aggravated assault, sexual assault and theft, also prostitution related offences including procuring, living off the avails…’ Dan ran his finger down the list.
‘Murdo?’ Shona enquired.
‘Aye, I know him. Lifted him a few times myself. We’ve got him on the Violent Offenders Database, though I don’t recall hearing much about him lately. His younger brother, Tony, is in Barlinnie for culpable homicide. Glassed a fella in a bar and watched him bleed out. There’s another brother, Gerry, doing a ten-stretch for robbery and possession of a firearm. There’s also a posse of cousins who are known to us too. The lassie with the bairn you picked up yesterday, Jax Cameron, she’s related. The whole extended family’s been keeping us busy for years.’
‘Yes. Name rings a bell. Let’s pay him a visit,’ said Shona, all trace of tiredness gone.
‘Aye, why not,’ said Murdo. ‘But I warn you, you’ll want to take a shower afterwards.’
* * *
Shona and Murdo spent a few minutes gathering up photographs of the woman from Jamie Buckland’s Facebook account, the forensic shots of the bracelet and checking for the latest intel regarding Paddy Corr. Dan perched on the edge of Kate’s desk, reading from his notebook as they went through the CCTV together. Shona noticed a definite thaw in her DC’s attitude to the Cumbrian copper and hoped Dan’s intel had brought a breakthrough in the baby milk case. Shona appeared in front of him, suit jacket on and handbag over her shoulder.
‘Ready?’ she said.
Dan looked surprised. ‘You want me along on this?’
‘Of course. I don’t expect we’ll get the warmest of welcomes, but we’re doing this softly-softly. Follow Murdo’s lead and keep your eyes open for anything that strikes you as odd. Okay?’
‘Yes, ma’am.’ Dan jumped to his feet. He gave a last nod to Kate, who glared after them before turning back to her screen and looking distinctly put out.
The Corrs’ home was on a 1950s council estate of roughcast grey semis under grey tile roofs. Gap-toothed garden fences marked a permeable boundary between private and public. Nothing that happened here was out of sight of the neighbours, although most would claim, if asked by a police officer, not to have seen or heard a thing.
A short woman in her fifties with dyed blonde hair and heavy rose-gold jewellery opened the door, her face set like concrete, instantly recognising the trio on her doorstep as plain-clothes detectives.
Shona lifted her warrant card, looped on its Police Scotland lanyard around her neck. ‘I’m Detective Inspector Shona Oliver, these are my colleagues DS O’Halloran and DC Ridley.’
The woman glanced at the card, then folded her arms and leaned against the door frame. ‘Aye. What do youse want?’
‘Mrs Corr, is it? We’re here to see Paddy. Is he about?’ Shona replied.
‘Isn’t he always?’ She shrugged but made no move to step aside. They were about as welcome as Ebola in in her household, and she wanted them to know it. Eventually she said, ‘I suppose you’d better come in.’
Murdo touched her lightly on the arm and entered the hall. ‘All right, Marie? How’s the family?’ She ignored him.
They followed her into an immaculate front room. Coy china shepherdesses sat on a teak shelving unit, a three-piece suite in polished leather was ranged back along the walls over a dark green carpet with a subtle fleck design. The room was dominated by a large flat-screen television showing the horse racing. A decaying man sat in a lounger, his swollen legs hoisted up to the near horizontal by the footrest. He breathed via a nasal cannula attached to an oxygen tank. When he saw Murdo he gave a gummy grin. ‘Thought I smelled bacon.’ His laugh subsided immediately into a fit of wheezing.
‘All right there, Paddy. You were never one for the healthy lifestyle, but I can’t say I’m happy to see you in this state.’
‘Can’t say I’m happy to see you at all,’ breathed Paddy. ‘What have I done this time?’
To Shona’s surprise, Murdo shook the hand Paddy offered him and pulled up a stool next to the man’s chair. He studied the television picture. ‘The gee-gees, is it? You got a fix on the next race?’
Paddy shook his head. ‘Strictly a spectator these days. In this as in everything else.’ He swept his hand across his failing body, inviting sympathetic nods and noises from his audience. He got none.
‘Well, you won’t mind me turning this off then.’ Murdo tapped the remote, placing it just out of Paddy’s reach and provoking a scowl. ‘This is my boss, DI Oliver, and a colleague from Cumbria. We need to ask you a few questions.’