Blindside - By Gj Moffat Page 0,43

keep this thing moving forward.’

‘Hey, how did you get on with Jim Murphy?’

‘Yeah, they haven’t finished with the clothes yet. Don’t worry, I’m on it.’

Irvine went down the stairs to the ground floor of the building and through the main reception area to a corridor at the back. At the end of the corridor was a large, open-plan room with four desks. The force’s only full-time in-house lawyer was a middle-aged woman with a fondness for green tea and blueberry muffins who sat at the desk nearest the door. The muffin habit had not been kind to her waistline. She looked up as Irvine sat in the chair on the other side of the desk.

Irvine smiled and introduced herself. The lawyer took her glasses off and fidgeted with a paper clip that she had bent out of shape, using the end of it to scrape under her nails. She brushed the resulting debris off her desk and on to the floor.

Irvine’s smile faltered.

‘What can I do for you?’ the lawyer asked, boredom clear in her expression.

‘I’m looking for some help. It’s on a murder investigation.’

That caught her interest. She put the misshapen paper clip down and clasped her hands.

‘What do you need from me?’

‘I need to log into your Land Register account. For information on a flat.’

‘What kind of information?’

‘Who owns it? When they bought it? That kind of thing, you know.’ Irvine smiled again. ‘Can you log me in now?’

‘Sure.’

Irvine followed her to a spare desk where the lawyer set her up to access the search function on the Register. She waited for the lawyer to leave her alone, entered the address of Lewski’s flat and put in a request for the search results to be e-mailed to her. She thanked the lawyer and went back upstairs.

There was an e-mail already in her inbox attaching the search report on the flat. It was owned by a company – not an individual. From the name, ‘ScotLets Limited’, she assumed that it probably held a number of properties for rent.

Irvine opened the Internet browser on her own computer and went to the Companies House website – one that she could access directly without going through the lawyer. It had details of all companies incorporated in the UK. She found the search function and typed in ‘ScotLets’.

The result gave her basic information, but not the details of who owned the shares in the company or who its directors were. She clicked on the ‘print page’ option and went to collect the sheet of paper from the network printer.

The registered office of the company was at the office of an accountancy firm in a commercial park north of the city centre.

Irvine went back to her desktop and clicked on an icon that allowed her access to more detailed reports on companies – for a price – and printed off the information she found for the shareholders and directors. She saw that there were two shareholders and that those same people were the only directors. They had listed their address as being the same as the registered office.

A quick Google search on the accountancy firm disclosed that it had two partners – and that they were the same people who owned and operated ScotLets. Nothing unusual in any of that, Irvine thought. Plenty of professionals put their money into property and did it through separate businesses, but she made a note to go and visit the accountants with Armstrong later that day.

She knew from experience that there were professionals out there who had no problem in dealing with dirty money.

3

There was a sandwich and a can of Coke sitting on Irvine’s desk when she came back from a quick walk around the block to get some fresh air. It was just past twelve-thirty. She looked round and saw Armstrong in Liam Moore’s room. Armstrong saw her looking and walked over to her desk.

‘Thought you might be hungry,’ he told her. ‘I got chicken salad coz I thought it would be safe enough. Who doesn’t like chicken, right?’

‘Thanks.’

He sat on the edge of her desk.

‘You know the boss?’ she asked him.

Armstrong looked over at Moore’s room.

‘Not really, no. I mean, I’m kind of into boxing and I know he used to fight so we were passing the time.’

Irvine touched the swollen side of her face. ‘You having a laugh at my expense?’

‘No. Anyway, it suits you. Makes you look tough.’

Irvine opened the sandwich and the Coke and ate while Armstrong explained that it would be