Chapter 52
EDINBURGH
Brodie parked his car around the back of his mother’s café and walked round to the front. The lunchtime rush was over and the mid-afternoon lull had kicked in, before later on when more people would come in.
‘There he is,’ his father, Dougal, said. ‘The man who keeps us safe in our beds at night. And whatever it is they’re paying you, it isn’t enough.’
‘Amen to that,’ Brodie said.
‘Have you heard from Moira?’ his mother asked as she came in from the back, wiping her hands on an apron.
‘Let the boy get a coffee, Isobel, for goodness’ sake.’ His father took a mug and poured from the urn.
‘I haven’t heard from her. This isn’t like her. She always calls you for a chat.’
Isobel let her apron fall down. ‘I’m really worried, Liam. Even when she’s at the hospital, she calls. She’s taking a week off from being a nurse and helping out here and that was her idea, so it’s not like she doesn’t want to come in. It’s not like her.’
‘There you go, son,’ Dougal said, handing over the mug.
‘Thanks, Dad.’ He sipped at the coffee, enjoying the taste. ‘I’ll give her a call and see where she is.’ He took out his phone and dialled her number but it went straight to voicemail. ‘No answer.’
‘See? I told you,’ Isobel said.
‘Maybe she’s finally having some fun after being married to Roger for all this time,’ Dougal said.
‘Oh, for goodness’ sake. She’s not like that. This is unusual, even for her.’
Brodie nodded. ‘I’ll have a patrol go round to her flat on Leith Walk and see if they can get an answer.’
‘She wanted a change of pace. She works hard in the Western, so coming in here and chatting with customers who don’t want to throw up all over her makes a wee change. And to be honest, it’s been great having her here. I’m worried sick,’ Isobel said.
‘I’ll try and get a hold of her, don’t worry.’
‘Why would she switch her phone off?’ Dougal said.
‘Maybe her inbox is full, or something,’ Brodie said.
Then his phone rang. He thought it might be his sister, but it was Lucy.
‘DI Warren. How can I help you?’
‘We’re still at the cemetery. They haven’t moved the bodies yet. Forensics are crawling all over it. Are you still in Fife?’
‘No, I’m at my mum’s café.’
‘You need to come down here, sir. This is big.’
‘I’ll be there shortly.’ He disconnected the call and drank some more coffee before setting the mug on the counter. ‘Got to go, Dad, thanks for that.’
‘If you get a hold of Moira, get her to call your mother, for God’s sake. Let us know if the Uniforms get a hold of her.’
‘Trust me, I will.’
‘She was chatting with that nice man, Peter, who comes in here regularly. Perhaps she’s away spending some time with him. She deserves a bit of fun in her life after being married to that dull sod.’
‘Who is this Peter?’ Brodie asked.
‘Just a customer who’s been coming in here. They were just talking, having a cuppa. He left on his own and she didn’t say she was meeting him. She needs some male company, so maybe chatting with this bloke made her happy. I wouldn’t read anything into it.’
‘You don’t think anything’s happened to her, do you?’
‘Let’s just stay positive.’
He left the café and headed back up Ferry Road and to the main entrance to the cemetery, then down to the archway.
Rob Cross was pacing back and forward with his phone to his ear when Brodie parked his car. He got out into the sun and wished he had bought a cold drink before he left the café.
‘That bad?’ Brodie asked.
‘Bad? This is as bad as it fucking gets. There are another three in there.’
‘Christ. How did you find them?’ Brodie asked as they started walking through to the smaller part of the cemetery.
‘We were here with Kane the other day, and today I noticed there were more gravestones down. Somebody had reported they saw material sticking out from under a gravestone, so when we checked it out, I called in the guy with the Bobcat, and that’s when it hit me, that there was more than just another one stone down.
The guy lifted the stones and we discovered three bodies. ’
He walked over to the row of graves and Brodie saw right away that more had been knocked over.
Cross stopped in front of a black granite stone. ‘This one is well attended to,’ he said, pointing out the cut grass around it and some flowers lying in front of it.
‘Nancy Simpson,’ Brodie said.
‘She died five years ago today,’ Cross said.
‘Christ,’ Brodie said. ‘When I was talking to somebody about the case, she told us that she had killed a cyclist, five years ago today. This is too much of a coincidence.’
‘You think this woman was the victim?’ Cross said.
‘It has to be. Any ID on the women you found today?’
‘A driving licence in the back pocket of one has the name Sylvia Green. A bank card in the pocket of another says Karen Blair.’ He nodded to another one, in a much worse state than the others.
‘There’s Marianne Taylor. Not confirmed but she has a necklace on.
It has the name Marianne on it. Of course, we’re not taking it at face value, and we’ll need ID confirmed, but it’s a start. ’
‘This is starting to make sense. The woman who killed Nancy Simpson, Alice Jack, was Ivy Jack’s sister.
Karen Blair also worked in the shop that Sylvia Green owned.
Marianne Taylor was a customer. They all knew each other.
That’s why they’re all here. Buried beside Nancy.
’ He looked at Cross. ‘But Alice Jack said she hit two cyclists. One of them survived.’
‘Sylvia and Karen have only been there for a few days at most. Those stones were standing when we were here before. Which fits n with the copycat theory.’
Brodie shook his head. ‘No. I don’t think we have a copycat. I think Gabriel Kane had a partner.’