Fatal Witness (Detective Erika Foster #7) (39)

‘Can you put in a request for a call trace, if you have the time stamp and exact location?’ asked Erika, excited to see that they were closing in on Vicky.

‘This is where I utilized the McGorry charm, again. I called Cairn Lodge services, flirted with the old dear on the end of the phone, and she was very helpful. Their payphone is rarely used, and calls on it get routed through their main IT system. They were able to give me the number Vicky called, a woman called Cilla Stone, who lives in Whithorn in Dumfries and Galloway in Scotland. It’s a pretty isolated address, about two and half hours from Glasgow.’

‘Hooray for the McGorry charm. Shame it never works on me,’ said Erika.

He grinned.

‘Do we know who this Cilla Stone is?’ asked Peterson.

‘Not yet, but the team are on it in the incident room. I just thought you might find out from Shawn.’

‘Okay. Good thinking,’ said Erika. ‘Where did Vicky go after the Cairn Services?’

‘She got back on the coach and went on to Glasgow. We’ve got CCTV of her getting off in Glasgow’s main station, and there the trail goes cold.’

‘Good work. I need you to review the CCTV footage from Blackheath station and the Morrison Road bus stop around 3pm, that’s when Shawn Macavity tells us he arrived on the train and then went to Honeycomb Court,’ said Erika.

‘Okay. On it,’ said McGorry.

Erika and Peterson went back into the interview room, and Erika could see that the moment had broken with Shawn, and he’d composed himself. This was the risk when you brought someone in voluntarily, she thought. In the short time we left the room, he’s seen the cold light of day and doesn’t want to say anything else.

‘Thank you for your patience and help here, Shawn,’ Erika said as they sat down opposite him at the table.

‘I think I should get a solicitor,’ said Shawn, uncomfortable. ‘I found Sophia’s body, and I panicked. But I didn’t do anything. I didn’t touch anything. And I’m sorry.’

Erika looked over at Peterson. There was the unaccounted for hour and ten minutes between him finding Sophia’s body and then being caught on the bus stop CCTV, and this was troubling. If they did push Shawn and get any kind of confession out of him, it could be challenged in court if they did it without a solicitor present. They’d gleaned a lot from him already, and the breakthrough on Vicky being in Scotland was big. Peterson looked as if he was thinking the same thing. He nodded in agreement.

‘Okay. We’d like you to come back and talk to us with a solicitor present. How would tomorrow morning at 9am work for you?’

Shawn looked surprised that they were going to let him leave. He mulled over the question.

‘Really? You’re letting me go?’

‘Yes, but we expect you to return tomorrow to speak to us again, with a solicitor. And we’d like to ask if you would consent to having a sample of your DNA taken.’

Shawn hesitated.

‘Yes, okay,’ he said.

‘Great. We can do that tomorrow when you have a solicitor present. We have a list on the front desk of approved solicitors,’ said Erika, getting up. ‘Do you need a car to take you home?’

‘Er, yes.’

Peterson got up from his chair.

‘I can organise that for you,’ he said. ‘And we’ll get someone to show you the list.’

‘Oh, Shawn. Just before we let you go and get on with your day, can I ask if you know a woman called Cilla Stone?’ said Erika.

‘Yeah. She was our teacher at Goldsmith’s Drama Academy,’ he said. ‘She’s retired, I think. Why?’

‘Do you know where she lives?’

‘Somewhere up in Scotland. Vicky kept in contact with her more than me,’ he said. ‘Do you think she’s there?’

‘Thank you, that’s very helpful. We’ll see you tomorrow bright and early,’ said Erika. They got up and escorted Shawn out to the corridor where an officer was waiting. ‘Can you see Mr Macavity out?’

They watched Shawn until he got in the lift at the end of the corridor.

‘He’s such a greasy little rat, and he got two good-looking women to have a threesome with him,’ said Peterson, shaking his head.

‘Trust you to think of that. More importantly, do you think he’s a murderer?’

‘What would be his motive?’

‘Drugs? Rage? Jealousy. Do you think he looked a bit wired during the interview?’ asked Erika.

Peterson shrugged.

‘He looked more scared than anything else. Are we taking a risk letting him go?’

‘Yes, but if we bring him in and charge him, I need stronger evidence, and I want to do it properly,’ said Erika.

When they got back to the incident room, McGorry was waiting for Erika, holding a piece of paper.

‘I’m really working my magic today.’ He grinned. ‘Cilla Stone, or Priscilla Stone, lives in Whithorn in Dumfries and Galloway in Scotland. She’s the only “Cilla” registered in the area.’

Crane looked up from his computer.

‘The only Cilla registered in the area!’ he said. ‘Just be thankful that Vicky didn’t call a Liverpool number from that payphone. McGorry would be sending a squad car round to Cilla Black’s house to bring her in for questioning!’