Fatal Last Words

Forty-six

‘Have you ever felt like a traveller?’ Lisa McDermid asked George Regan as she stood in the doorway of the mobile crime-scene office that had just been delivered to Gullane bents, and parked halfway between the encampment and the path where Mustafic’s body had been found.

‘I might right now,’ the DI conceded, ‘if not for the fact that this thing has “Police” painted on it in big letters and black and white check all around it. I reckon the public will be able to figure out who’s who. But the same thought’s occurred to Baillie’s group, in reverse. He’s just asked me if it’s OK for them to move on.’

‘Has he? What did you say?’

‘I checked with the super; he says that he’s willing to let them, as long as they agree to go to the official site just outside Musselburgh, so that we don’t have to search the county for them if we need to talk to anyone again. Baillie’s accepted that; whether they do it or not remains to be seen, but I’ll be happy when they’re gone.’

‘I’d have thought they’d want to stay close to us, for protection. After all, one of their people’s just been attacked.’

‘These people aren’t used to asking for police protection; I doubt if the thought occurred to friend Baillie.’

‘Maybe not.’ McDermid looked at the steel desks, bolted to the floor, and to the stack of chairs tethered for transit against the side of the unit. ‘Will they put phone lines in here?’ she asked.

‘I doubt it. We won’t be here long enough; rest of the week, at most. Our next task will be to find out where Mustafic went last night after he left Baillie and Mr Skinner. We know he had more drink, and there’s only three other pubs in the village, so that won’t take us long. Then we interview bar staff, locals, anyone who remembers him from last night. This is a small place, so that won’t take long. Hopefully we’ll get a lead from that; if not it’s door-to-door.’

‘What do you think happened?’

Regan stared at her. ‘What’s that got to do with it, Lisa? The obvious is that somebody who doesn’t like gypsies followed him out of the boozer and stove his head in. But we don’t make assumptions in CID; we take statements, we gather any physical evidence there might be. . in this case, that would be fuck all. . and we see where they lead us. So when we go down the village shortly and start making inquiries, please keep an open mind. Don’t just go looking for a thug with a hammer tucked in his belt. Discount nothing; if somebody tells you they thought they saw a Martian eyeing him up. .’

McDermid grinned. ‘I’ll keep a straight face and try to find out where he might have parked his spaceship. I get the message, George.’

‘Good.’ He checked his watch. ‘Ready to go?’

‘Give me a minute. I still have to call Playfair’s charity. Do we have phone books?’

‘They’re usually in a desk drawer.’ He tossed her the keys that the delivery driver had given him and watched as she matched each one to a lock.

At the third attempt she found what she was looking for, two thick volumes, Edinburgh Yellow Pages and the residential directory. She picked up the former and turned to ‘C’. ‘Got it,’ she declared, and keyed in a number.

‘Rights for Ethnic Groups,’ a bright high-pitched male voice sang in her ear, in an accent that contrived to be both Asian and Scottish.

‘Hello, this is DS McDermid, East Lothian CID. I need to speak to somebody about one of your workers, a Mr Hugo Playfair.’

‘I’m sorry,’ the man replied. ‘We don’t have anybody of that name here.’

‘I didn’t say that he worked there, only that he’s associated with your group.’

‘You better speak to my director.’

‘And he would be. .?’

‘She. Ms James. Hold on, please.’

McDermid did as she was told, happy that at least she did not have to listen to recorded ethnic music while she waited.

If she had, she would only have heard a few bars. ‘This is Peedy James,’ a new voice said briskly. ‘How can I help you, Ms McDermid?’

From Asia to Australia, the sergeant reckoned. ‘You can tell me about a man named Hugo Playfair. I understand that he’s one of your field workers.’

‘You do? Who told you that?’

‘That’s what I’ve been led to believe.’

‘Well. . sounds as if Hugo’s been getting a bit flowery. We’re a small charity, Sergeant, dealing with pretty diverse client groups. We can’t afford to have field workers out with each of them. Hugo Playfair doesn’t work for us; he’s a supporter, sure, and he acts as a helpline for travellers, but it’s entirely voluntary on his part.’

‘Can you put me in touch with him?’

‘You could try and trace the group he travels with.’

‘We’ve done that; he’s not there. Do you have a mobile number for him?’

‘As far as I know he doesn’t have one. Too new-tech for him, he told me once.’

‘How long have you known him?’ McDermid asked.

‘A couple of years, I suppose. He pitched up here in the office, and made a donation to our funds. I gave him a coffee in return, and a Tunnock’s Caramel Log as a bonus. He told me that he was adopting a travelling lifestyle, and that he hoped that he could help us by being a disciple. . yes, that was the word he used. . among the travellers. I told him that was fine by me, but that he’d better not look for anything other than no-cost or low-cost support from me, as I don’t have the budget. He told me, “No worries,” and headed off. Since then I’ve heard from him a few times, about nothing specific, just calls to say hello, and let me know how his group was doing.’

‘Would it be fair to describe himself as a representative of REG?’

‘It wouldn’t be entirely accurate,’ James replied, ‘since I never gave him that mandate, but as long as he’s not pledging money in my name, I wouldn’t object to it.’

‘I understand,’ said the sergeant. ‘The first time you met Mr Playfair, when he said he’d “Decided to adopt a travelling lifestyle”, as you quoted him, did he say what he’d been doing before then?’

‘Not that I recall, and I didn’t ask. I’ve seen a few guys like him back in Australia; wankers, basically. They either made a few quid or inherited it, and decided to try the outback life, but they never lasted long before they scurried back to the town. I put Hugo in that category, but I have to admit, he’s stayed the course.’ As she spoke, McDermid recalled Derek Baillie saying something very similar.

‘Does the name Asmir Mustafic mean anything to you?’

‘Not a thing.’

‘Mr Playfair never mentioned him?’

‘No.’›

‘So you don’t provide him with a caravan and a vehicle?’

‘Are you crazy? Of course not. Who is this guy anyway?’

‘He’s a Bulgarian gypsy immigrant, or he was until last night. Mr Playfair introduced him to the traveller group, not long after he joined himself.’

‘Hold on,’ the director told her. ‘I’ll check my database just in case; it has thousands of names of immigrants. Asmir Mustafic, you said, yes?’

‘Yes. You want me to spell it?’

‘I don’t think so; I’ve come across a few Asmirs, and a few Mustafics, but never in tandem. But the way, what do you mean he was an immigrant? Has he been deported, is that what this is about?’

‘No, he’s dead. He was murdered last night.’

‘Jesus! A racist killing?’

‘We’re still looking into that.’

The detective heard her blow out a breath. ‘Bastards!’ she swore, quietly, as if she had reached her own conclusion about the murder. ‘No,’ she continued. ‘He’s definitely not on my files. Listen, if Hugo should contact me, do you want me to ask him to get in touch with you?’

‘No,’ McDermid replied quickly. ‘I want you to say nothing at all about me. If you can, find out where he is, then let me know.’ She recited her mobile number, slowly, so that Peedy James could note it. ‘Thanks for your help,’ she concluded.

She felt Regan’s eyes upon her. ‘Well?’ he asked quietly.

‘It’s a front,’ she told him. ‘He’s used REG as a. . a. .’ She searched for a phrase that would not come.

‘Flag of convenience?’ the DI suggested.

‘Yes, one of those, whatever it is. His relationship with Mustafic didn’t derive from the charity, as he told Baillie. It’s weird, the whole business.’

‘Too right, which makes it all the more important that we find out exactly who this mystery man is.’

‘Which one?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean that if Hugo Playfair isn’t what he said he was, then why should we take it for granted that Mustafic was either? Like you said, George, we make no assumptions in CID.’