Against the Clock, John Carson [digital ebook reader txt] 📗

Robertson nodded. ‘Mike and Agnes. Morton. They’re my friends.’

‘Give me their number and I’ll get DS Evans to call.’

Robertson rattled it off for Evans when he came back into the room, then he left once more.

‘This is going to be hard, Mr Robertson, but we’re here for you. You’ll get all the help you need. First, though, we need to know where you were last night, so we can establish a timeline,’ Dunbar said.

Robertson conceded the point and nodded. ‘I was here. I work in Sainsbury’s at Westfield during the day, and I come home at night and sit by the phone. Every night.’

Harry nodded. ‘Can you tell us about anybody who you thought might have taken Sandra at the time,’ he said. ‘We read the file, but we want to see if there’s anybody else you might have thought of since you made your statement.’

Robertson shook his head. ‘No. I think she was in the wrong place at the wrong time. A pervert took her.’

Evans came back into the room and nodded to Harry. ‘Mr and Mrs Morton will be over soon. They live out in Corstorphine, but they’re on their way.’

‘Was Sandra ever in trouble at school?’ Dunbar asked.

Robertson shook his head. ‘No. Never. She and her friends were good kids. The teachers loved them.’

‘Did she ever go on a school trip to the Swim World leisure centre in Glasgow?’

Robertson looked blank for a moment, then his eyes widened a bit. ‘Yes. She went there a week before she went missing. I remember because her mother and I argued over whether she should go or not. I was overprotective. See how that turned out, eh? Ironic, isn’t it? I was overprotective but couldn’t protect her when the time came.’

‘You can’t blame yourself,’ Harry said.

‘Did she have a good time at Swim World?’ Dunbar said, steering the conversation back on track.

‘Yes. She had a good time. Her friends were there. It was a good day out for twelve year olds.’

‘You remember how they got there?’

There was a knock at the door and Evans answered it. A woman rushed in, followed by two men.

‘Oh, Brian. I am so sorry. I heard on the news, and when that policeman called, I just knew it was your baby. Oh God.’ Agnes Morton leaned over and put her arms around Robertson, sobbing.

While she cried, the two men introduced themselves as Mike Morton and his brother-in-law, Marshall Mann. Harry introduced himself and his colleagues.

‘I’m really sorry, mate,’ Morton said to Robertson when his wife drew back. ‘I can’t believe it.’

‘Me neither,’ Mann said. He looked to be in his late thirties, with designer stubble and fashionable glasses.

Dunbar and Harry both stood up. ‘I was asking how the girls got to Swim World,’ Dunbar said.

Robertson had to think about it again. ‘Yes. They went on a coach. Mike’s coach.’ He nodded to his friend. ‘Walter Scott Travel. Mike owns the business and he gave the school a good price. Didn’t you, Mike?’

The three policemen looked at him.

‘Yes, I did,’ Morton answered. ‘The business was a lot smaller then, so I had to take what I could. I had to hunt for business, and back then I even had to tinker about with the engine. Different now, though. I’ve got a few private contracts for shuttle work, and we do private hire, as well as a couple of local service runs.’

‘You were there when Alice Brent went missing,’ Dunbar said.

‘I remember you interviewing me at the time. I told you back then, I was sitting with some other bus drivers. I didn’t know them, but it’s like a solidarity movement when bus drivers get together. We were swapping war stories. I used to be an Edinburgh bus driver before I left and started my own business.’

‘I checked the file again to refresh my memory and saw you had been cleared. All the drivers were sitting with each other in the café and you alibied each other. Then when it was time to leave, around the time Alice went missing, all the drivers were outside, chatting. There were no security cameras inside the building because of the issues of the changing rooms and lockers being near the pool. The only other camera was at the entrance. Alice was seen walking out ahead of her friends, and when they got outside, they thought she was on the bus. Turns out she wasn’t and eventually we were called in.’

‘That’s right. And my bus was searched, which I was quite happy to let happen.’

Agnes Morton looked puzzled. ‘I thought we were called here because Sandra had been found?’

‘You were,’ said Harry. ‘I have a family liaison officer coming round, but if you could stay with Mr Robertson in the meantime, that would be great.’

‘No problem,’ she said, eyeing the policemen with suspicion.

The detectives left the flat.

Eight

Wee Shug gripped the top of the lower sash window and sneaked another quick glance down and thought he was going to puke. His legs were shaking, he was sweating like a Russian shot putter’s bawbag and he was going to chuck his dinner over the window any minute.

It had to be at least a hundred and eighty feet to the ground, he told himself. At least. He thought about gobbing just to see if it would evaporate, but that would mean leaning out more than he was comfortable with, and besides, it might get on his new Nikes if he missed.

Instead, he turned to look through the window to the inside.

Where Muckle McInsh was standing watching him.

The big man inside shook his head and reached over, sliding the top sash window down since Shug seemed to be standing on the lower one.

‘Come on, ya fanny. Get inside,’ Muckle said. Sparky was standing beside him, the German Shepherd panting and wagging his tail. Shug thought the dog was laughing at him.

‘I can’t. I’m stuck.’

‘How are you stuck?’

‘It’s a hundred and eighty feet up here, and I’m frozen to the spot.’

Muckle shook