to have anything more to do with him. She wouldn’t acknowledge him as the father, she wouldn’t see him or talk to him. She made it plain that, this time, it really was over and done.’
‘How did he take that?’
‘Again, I got it second-hand. This time from Willie Sinclair. He said the boy was devastated. But all I cared about was that he’d finally got the message that he was never going to be part of this family. Willie advised the boy to put some distance between himself and Cat, and for once, he listened. Within a few weeks, he’d got a job in Austria, working on some hunting estate near Salzburg. And he’s worked in Europe ever since.’
‘And now? You still think he might have been responsible for what happened?’
Grant made a face. ‘If I’m honest, no. Not really. I don’t think he had the brains to come up with such a complicated plot. I’m sure he’d have loved to get his hands on his son and take his revenge on Cat at the same time, but it’s much more likely that it was some politically motivated bastards who thought it would be clever to get me to fund their revolution.’ Wearily, he got to his feet. ‘I’m tired now. The police are coming tomorrow morning and we’ll be going through all the other stuff then. We’ll see you at dinner, Miss Richmond.’ He walked out of the room, leaving Bel with plenty to ponder. And to transcribe. When Brodie Grant had said he would talk to her, she hadn’t imagined for a moment he would provide her with this rich seam of information. She was going to have to consider very carefully how to present him to the world’s media. One foot wrong and she knew the mine would be closed down. And now she’d had a taste of what lay within, that was definitely the last thing she wanted.
Glenrothes
The Mint was staring at the computer screen as if it was an artefact from outer space when Karen got back to her office. ‘What have you got for me?’ she asked. ‘Have you tracked down the five scabs yet?’
‘None of them’s got a criminal record,’ he said.
‘And?’
‘I wasn’t sure where else to look.’
Karen rolled her eyes. Her conviction that the Mint had been dumped on her as a form of sabotage by the Macaroon intensified daily. ‘Google. Electoral rolls. 192.com. Vehicle licensing. Make a start there, Jason. And then fix me up a site meeting with the cave preservation person. Better leave tomorrow clear, see if you can get him to meet me on Saturday morning.’
‘We don’t work Saturdays usually,’ the Mint said.
‘Speak for yourself,’ Karen muttered, making a note to herself to ask Phil to come with her. Scots law’s insistence on corroboration for all evidence made it hard to be a complete maverick.
She woke her computer from hibernation and tracked down the contact details of her opposite number in Nottingham. To her relief, DCI Des Mottram was at his desk, receptive to her request. ‘I think it’s probably a dead end, but it’s one that needs to be checked out,’ she said.
‘And you don’t fancy a trip down to the Costa del Trent,’ he said, amused resignation in his voice.
‘It’s not that. I’ve just had a major case reopen today and there’s no way I can spare a couple of bodies on something that probably won’t take us any further forward except in a negative way.’
‘Don’t worry about it. I know how it goes. It’s your lucky day, though, Karen. We got two new CID aides on Monday and this is exactly the kind of thing I can use to break them in. Nothing too complicated, nothing too dodgy.’
Karen gave him the names of the men. ‘I’ve got one of my lads looking for last known addresses. Soon as he’s got anything, I’ll get him to email you.’ A few more details, and she was done. Right on cue, Phil Parhatka walked back into the room, a bacon roll transmitting a message straight to the pleasure centres of Karen’s brain. ‘Mmm,’ she groaned. ‘Christ, that smells glorious.’
‘If I’d known you were back, I’d have got you one. Here, we’ll go halves.’ He took a knife out of his drawer and cut the roll in half, tomato sauce squirting over his fingers. He handed over her share then licked his fingers. What more, Karen wondered, could a woman ask for in a man?
‘What did the Macaroon want?’ Phil said.
Karen bit into the roll and spoke through a mouthful of soft sweet dough and salty bacon. ‘New development in the Catriona Maclennan Grant case.’
‘Really? What’s happened?’
Karen grinned. ‘I don’t know. King Brodie didn’t bother to tell the Macaroon. He just told him to send me round tomorrow morning. So I need to get myself up to speed smartish. I’ve already sent for the records, but I’m going to check it out online first. Listen…’ She drew him to one side. ‘The Mick Prentice business. I need to talk to somebody on Saturday and obviously the Mint doesn’t do Saturdays. Any chance I can talk you into coming along with me?’
‘Coming along where?’
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