I'll Keep You Safe

Chapter Thirty-Three

Although the library did not open until 10 a.m., Gunn had been briefed that staff would be there half an hour before. He and Braque were standing outside in Cromwell Street and saw that there were lights on beyond the windows. But the door was locked, and the Closed sign turned out.

Brown marble tiles lined the frontage beneath the painted stonework, and Braque noticed that there appeared to be letters missing above the windows. EABHAR ANN read the Gaelic in gold letters fixed to the wall on the left. IBR RY read the English to the right. Gunn banged on the door with the flat of his hand until a young lady with long brown hair came to peer through the glass. He pressed his warrant card up against the window and then waited patiently until the library assistant let them in.

‘Morning, Ma’am,’ he said. ‘We need to speak to the librarian.’

The assistant led them through the empty library to the reception desk, which also welcomed visitors in Gaelic. Failte. And asked them to wait. There were three computers around the desk, and an array of printers and faxes behind it. They were in the heart of the children’s section, bedecked with triangular red and white flags hanging from the ceiling. A row of five computer terminals sat on desks pushed up against the back wall. Braque and Gunn exchanged glances.

Within a minute, the librarian swept through a door at the back. An attractive lady in her middle years, dressed in a grey suit and black blouse, her hair cut short, the colour of brushed steel shot through with black. She spoke with an accent Gunn found hard to identify. German, or Eastern European, perhaps.

‘How can I help you?’

Braque let Gunn do the talking.

‘Ma’am, we’re interested to identify a person or persons who may have used computers in this library to access the internet and send emails.’

The librarian smiled and raised her eyebrows. ‘Detective, we have hundreds of people using our computers.’

‘But you keep some kind of record of who they are?’

‘Well, yes.’

‘So if we provided you with IP addresses for the computers, and the date and times they were being used, you would be able to tell me who was using them?’

‘Only if they were a member.’

Gunn frowned. ‘Of?’

‘The library of course.’ It seemed perfectly obvious to the librarian. ‘A member provides us with their library card, which has a bar code, and a record of use is entered into our system. Name, address, which computer, and when it was being used.’

‘And if they are not a member?’ Braque asked.

‘Then they are categorized as a PC guest, and there would be no record of their identity.’

‘Then let’s hope they were a member,’ Gunn said. He took a sheet of paper from an inside pocket and unfolded it on the desk in front of them. ‘Here are the IP addresses of the two computers we’re interested in. And the dates and times of use. Could you check that for us, please?’

‘Of course.’ She smiled and handed the sheet to her assistant, who was only too keen to sit down and tap at her keyboard to bring up the required information. It took her about thirty seconds.

She looked up and pulled a face of apology. ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘Guests on both occasions.’

Braque heard Gunn cursing under his breath. He turned towards the row of computers against the wall behind them. ‘I take it these are the computers?’

‘Not unless your user was a child,’ the librarian said.

‘I think definitely not,’ Braque told her.

‘Then it would be these computers over here.’

They followed her to the back of the library where there were fourteen numbered computer terminals lined up along desks among the Reference shelves. Walls were pinned with maps of Europe and leaflets about VAT moving online, and notices warning against eating or drinking or using mobile phones in the library.

‘They are all linked to the main server in the Council offices,’ the librarian said. ‘And there are restrictions on use. Pages that cannot be accessed online. Pornography, for example.’

Braque said, ‘Restrictions that could no doubt be worked around by someone with a little expertise in computers?’

The librarian shrugged defensively. ‘I am no expert on that. You would need to talk to our IT people.’

Gunn said, ‘Can you show me the two computer terminals that we are interested in?’ The emails to Niamh and Georgy Vetrov had been sent from the same computer at the same time nearly three weeks ago. The email to Ruairidh had been sent from a different terminal less than seven days ago.

After a consultation with her assistant, the librarian identified terminals three and twelve. Braque scanned the ceilings and seemed disappointed. ‘Are there no security cameras in the library?’ she asked.

The librarian smiled. ‘I’m afraid not, Security is not really an issue here.’

Again Braque exchanged a look with Gunn. It seemed that they were having no luck at all. Gunn scratched his head thoughtfully, disturbing his carefully gelled hair, and he cocked an eyebrow. ‘A wee thought,’ he said. Then turned to the librarian. ‘Many thanks, Ma’am.’ And he steered Braque back through the library towards the door. ‘You realize,’ he said, ‘that there were at least three folk of interest to us who were on the island when those first emails were sent.’

Braque stopped. ‘Who?’

‘Lee Blunt. Niamh’s brother, Uilleam. And Iain Maciver, the boy Ruairidh caught poaching all those years ago. He’s still living here, at least.’

‘And we know that Blunt was back on the island last week. What about William?’

Gunn shrugged. ‘That, Ma’am, remains to be seen.’ He stopped at the door. ‘And it might just be possible for us to see exactly that.’ He held the door open for her to step out into Cromwell Street and a breeze that was growing stiffer on this grey funeral morning. Lights burned in the Baltic Bookshop opposite. McNeill’s pub next door was still locked up securely. Too early yet for Stornoway’s drinkers to be out. ‘There.’ He pointed, and Braque followed his finger. Fixed to the wall, high up on the corner with Francis Street, hung a black globe in a bell-shaped hood. A CCTV multi-camera security orb that would provide a perfect view of anyone entering or leaving the library.

Braque understood the significance of it immediately. ‘Where can we access the footage?’

‘At the police station, Ma’am. It’s all held on a hard disk, as far back, certainly, as we’re going to need it.’ He smiled. ‘We do keep up with the latest technology, you know, even if we are just a wee island.’

‘We can check it now, then?’

Gunn pulled back the sleeve of his anorak to look at his watch. ‘Well, Ma’am, it’ll take a wee while to set it up. And we don’t want to be late for the funeral. And who knows who we’re going to see there, that we might not otherwise recognize on the CCTV footage. Best we go to the funeral first, and check out the footage this afternoon.’ He grinned. ‘After all, it’s not going anywhere.’