‘The car was in a pretty deep gully, and well camouflaged.’
‘I’m telling you I’d have noticed it. Added to which, those woods were a pet project of mine — them and the house. I spent a fortune restoring both.’
‘How do you restore woodland?’ Crowther asked, sounding genuinely curious.
‘By planting rare and native species rather than trees you grow as a crop. I had meetings with forestry experts, took on board everything they said.’
‘You’re saying you had a detailed knowledge of Poretoun Woods,’ Clarke commented. Ness locked eyes with her above his burger.
‘I know what you’re getting at — means I’d have known about the gully and that it made a good hiding place. But why would I kill Stuart? He was a great guy, just doing his job and living for the weekend.’
‘Weekends were special to him?’
‘There was a club he liked in the New Town, somewhere just off Leith Street. Rogues, I think it was called. Him and Derek were regulars.’
‘Derek Shankley, you mean? Did you ever meet him?’
‘A couple of times. Never mentioned his dad was one of your lot. Apparently the father was none too happy about his son and Stuart.’
‘How about you, Mr Ness?’
‘I’ve no problem with gay people. Some of the best talent in my films were gay. Maybe not all of them totally out, back in the day, but that’s how it was. Even now, plenty big names are still reluctant to step from the closet. I could give you a few that might surprise you.’
‘Why did you sell Poretoun House?’
Ness’s face darkened a little. ‘Sunk too much of my own money into a film I thought was gold-plated. Then Billy — Billy Locke — had that run-in with HMRC and the company suddenly had penalties to pay.’ He offered a shrug and dropped the remains of the burger back on to the wooden board it had arrived on. The small tin bucket of fries remained untouched. Ness stifled a belch.
‘Why that particular spot, do you think?’ Clarke asked.
‘Maybe to put me in the frame. Stands to reason it was someone who knew my history with the woods.’
‘But they’re owned by your old rival these days.’
Ness’s face darkened further. ‘That was a kick in the teeth. Thought I was safe selling to Jeff Sellers. But then he goes and does a deal with Brand of all people. And you know why Brand did it?’
‘Why?’
‘To fuck with my head — excuse my French one more time. From what I hear, he’s letting the house rot, and the woods too. Any invasive species, he lets it thrive. That’s exactly what him and his kind are — an invasive species.’
‘Meaning what?’
‘Men like him are little more than pillagers and con artists. He’ll say and do anything to get the land he wants, then build any old tat on it. I wanted that patch of green belt for Scotland’s first film studio. It would have brought jobs and prestige. Brand wanted a golf course for his rich pals, and even then he’d have scaled it back to squeeze in more of his ticky-tacky houses.’
‘Do the pair of you still butt heads?’
‘I got tired of the lawyers’ bills; wanted my life back. Plus, the longer Stuart stayed missing, the easier it was to read it as a message — lay off me and my business.’
Clarke took out her notebook and skimmed its pages, making show of finding her next question. ‘Did you ever have dealings with a pair of men called Steele and Edwards?’
Ness gave a snort. ‘They pulled my car over a few times to tell me I was speeding. I knew what was going on, though; Stuart had already warned me they were on Brand’s payroll.’
‘He had proof?’
‘Why would he lie?’
‘This was something he’d discovered in the course of his investigation?’
‘Yes.’
‘Did you ever make a formal complaint?’
He stared at her. ‘Are you going to tell me it would have made a blind bit of difference?’
‘Did Stuart Bloom have run-ins with them like you did?’
‘He never said. The club did get busted a few times, though: cops looking for drugs, anyone underage, corrupt and depraved practices... Remember there was a spate of overdoses in the city around that time? That gave your lot the excuse.’
‘Mr Bloom was never arrested in these raids?’
Ness tapped the side of his nose. ‘Said he was smart enough not to be there those nights.’
‘Are you suggesting he was tipped off?’
‘His boyfriend’s dad was a copper — put two and two together.’ Ness poured the dregs of his can into his glass. Then he smiled. ‘You know I used them in one of my films?’
‘Who?’
‘I had a crowd scene I couldn’t afford, so I asked Stuart. Him and Derek rounded up a few of the guys they knew from Rogues. Now that I think of it, we filmed in the woods.’
‘What was the film called?’
‘Zombies v Bravehearts. Ever tried to make four zombies look like a horde?’
‘Is that who Stuart and Derek played?’
Ness shook his head. ‘They were queuing up to get into a kilt, stripped to the waist and painted blue. It was so cold that day, I could have saved the cost of make-up.’
‘Is the film available anywhere?’
‘I’m told copies fetch a small fortune online. Died a death when we first released it. There are clips on YouTube.’
‘I’m guessing there’ll be one somewhere in your office, though.’
‘The only copy I have.’
‘We’ll bring it back, I promise.’
The low sun had shifted and was catching the side of Emily Crowther’s face again.
‘You really should consider acting,’ Ness told her. ‘Do you mind if I...?’ He produced a phone from his pocket and held it up to take a photo. But Clarke blocked the camera with her hand.
‘No publicity,’ she said. Looking crestfallen, Ness put the phone away again.
As they were leaving, he told the waiter he’d settle up at the end of the week. The waiter’s look suggested he’d expected nothing else. With the DVD retrieved — in a plain black plastic box — Clarke and Crowther headed back to Clarke’s car.
‘He could make you a star,’ Clarke commented.
‘Sleazy fucker that he is,’ Crowther muttered in response. Clarke gave her a sideways glance. DC Emily Crowther had just gone up — way, way up — in her estimation, as had DCI Graham Sutherland. He’d known the way someone from the film world might react to a pretty face — and he’d been right.
‘Why the interest in Steele and Edwards?’ Crowther asked as Clarke signalled into traffic.
‘They’re ACU these days.’
‘And you’ve just escaped ACU’s clutches.’ Crowther nodded her understanding.
‘Graham told you?’
Another nod. ‘You were exonerated, though?’
‘Whiter than white,’ Clarke said quietly, signalling to turn at the lights.
9
The first meeting between Malcolm Fox and Tess Leighton became an immediate battle of wills, which he ended up losing. The 2006 case files had been moved to a small, cold room down the corridor from the MIT office. Fox had argued that they should be returned to MIT.
‘All due respect, Malcolm,’ Leighton had drawled, ‘we’re running a murder inquiry in there.’
‘I wouldn’t get in the way.’
She had slid her eyes towards the stacks of boxes. ‘You probably would, though. Easier to concentrate when you’ve got a whole room to yourself. I’m always around if you need me.’
Having said which, she had inched backwards to the door, closing it after her. An hour later, she’d stuck her head back into the room. ‘We’re making a cuppa,’ she had informed him. ‘How do you take it?’