Brogan eased himself into the sofa, dislodging the overloaded ashtray as he went. A landslide of cigarette ends fell to the floor. He reached out a hand, tried to stop the ash mountain in progress but his efforts had no effect, he sat back dusting his hands before finally resting his trembling fingers on his knees.
‘That’s better, Brogan,’ said McCormack. The suspect’s eyes flitted left and right, he seemed confused by the DS’s change of persona, like he was suddenly without support in the room. Even the flickering television, pitching surreal shadows at the walls, was on the officers’ side.
‘Now, what was that you were saying about giving a message to my wee pal … ?’
‘Now look Mr Valentine, I’m sorry if I said the wrong thing.’ Brogan’s look spelled out his perplexity.
Valentine laughed aloud. ‘I bloody well bet you are.’
‘I wasn’t trying to be wide with you, just y’know, having a bit of patter.’
‘Oh, was that it? I see now. You’ll have to forgive me, because the way I heard you say pass it on to my wee pal, I thought you must be …’ he paused, then roared, ‘assuming I was one of the bent coppers you’re so familiar with.’
Brogan looked away. His Adam’s apple rode up and down in his thin throat. He appeared to have lost some layers of skin, only an exposed and desperate soul was left.
‘I’m not wrong, I see.’ Valentine reached out for Brogan’s vest and raised him from the sofa, his hands were two tight fists pressing on the thin man’s chin.
‘You’re hurting my face.’
‘Get used to it, the place you’re going will make a sore face your best mate, you’ll be begging for it just to get a break from having your arse split in two. Now I’m not messing here, Brogan, I’ve already told you this is a double murder investigation and I will run you in for it if you don’t give me whatever it is you’re holding, starting with the name of my wee pal on the force.’
‘I can’t … I told you everything I know.’
‘That bullshit about the punch-up round the back of the Meat Hangers? How much bloody use is that going to be to me? I already have Tulloch and Finnie on my radar and I know why they were booted out the army so that amounts to squat all in my book.’
‘Mr Valentine, you don’t understand, this is bigger than me, I’d be on your books too if I say any more. I shouldn’t even know what I do.’
The DI drew back a fist, he seemed ready to use it but McCormack stepped in, grabbing his arm. ‘Let me take him down, sir. He might see sense in the cells.’
Valentine threw Brogan onto the sofa and stepped away, running his fingers through his hair like it might calm him down.
McCormack spoke: ‘I’m guessing you had a visit from us after the Meat Hangers was stood over?’
‘Aye. You know that.’
‘I’m guessing it was one of Eddy Harris’s team that came to see you?’
Valentine burst in. ‘We bloody know who it was, we just need to hear him say it.’
‘Aye and you’ve said that, what’s in it for me, though?’ said Brogan. ‘I mean, if I stick my neck out you need to make it worth my while.’
‘Am I hearing this? Are you seriously going on the make, here?’ said Valentine. ‘Because if you are, Brogan, I’ll add that to the list of things I’m going to throw at you.’
‘I’m saying, it’s not easy, I’m in a position here …’
‘He’s scared, sir.’
‘He should be. But not of Norrie Leask or Eddy Harris, their days are over. Brogan, when I walk out that door, you’re walking in front of me with your hands cuffed behind your back. Now, believe it or not, that’s the facts. You’re going down with all the rest of them, whether I decide to play up or play down your involvement is entirely up to you. You have one card, you’re holding it, are you going to play it or are you going away for something like thirty years with the big boys.’
‘I’m not one of the big boys, Mr Valentine.’
‘I know that, Brogan, you’re a scrote. A bottom feeder. A recidivist of low intelligence and lower character but if you run with the big dogs you’re going to get some bloody big fleas. Now this is your last chance, Brogan, get onside with me and spare your mangy arse, or keep running with the pack that put you here.’
He stared at the television, his eyes widening and moistening. The options as Valentine had presented them appeared to have had an effect. Brogan slumped further into the sofa, his shoulders drooping towards the floor making his thin frame seem more rounded than it was. His breathing slowed, his thin lips and fragile mouth started to twitch at first, and then formed words. ‘It was Eddy Harris. I’ll make a statement if you want.’
Valentine caught McCormack smiling. He walked towards Brogan. ‘When did he call?’
‘I don’t know, last week, after the break in some time.’
‘You sound like he’s a familiar face.’
‘He’s been around the club for years.’ Brogan found a spark of energy, sat upright. ‘I hope this is going in my favour.’
‘Of course,’ said Valentine. ‘What do you mean Harris was around the club for years?’
‘I don’t know …’
‘Come on, Brogan, you’ve only just started talking, don’t ruin it for yourself.’
‘I mean, I only know what I hear. Harris was always about the club, there’d been a bit of bother with dealers in the early days but Leask got them seen to by Harris. Leask had his own dealers who paid him a kickback, they were looked after by Harris and the others got punted.’
‘So Eddy Harris was on Leask’s payroll?’
‘That’s what they say. I mean, I’m sure he was, but not just for the stuff with the dealers. He was around a lot, too much, in the end. It was like Eddy had invested in the club or something, I don’t know, he was in taking free drinks all the time and larging it up in the VIP suite. I don’t know any more than that, I really don’t, but I bet if you do some digging around you’ll find more.’
‘One last thing, Brogan, the night of the fight with Tulloch and Fin, was Eddy Harris around then?’
‘Aye, I think he was. Yeah, I remember seeing him. I’m pretty sure he went upstairs with Leask and the others when the fight got stopped. But why do you ask?’
‘I’m asking the questions, don’t get above yourself.’ Valentine nodded to McCormack. ‘Get the bracelets on him, we need to get back to the station and sort this out.’
McCormack cuffed Brogan and sat him back on the sofa. Valentine was standing before the television, poised to switch it off as she approached. ‘Sir, you don’t really think Eddy’s involved in this murder malarkey?
‘Don’t I?’
‘Come on, he’s just a bit flash, just a bent copper.’
‘Sylvia, throughout this case the one thing I’ve consistently heard is he’s just … he’s just a scrote, he’s just a squaddie, he’s just a local hood. Let me tell you, there’s something bigger than all of them going on here, it’s gotten out of hand and made them all greater than the sum of their parts. Eddy Harris is involved, I don’t know how but I will find out and when I do I’ll hang him out to dry.’
Valentine reached forward to switch off the television.
‘Hang on,’ said McCormack.
‘What?’
‘Look, there on the news. It’s the chief super.’
CS Marion Martin stood on the steps of King Street station with Major Rutherford and DI Eddy Harris. There was a sprinkling of uniform and some of the murder squad behind her, in front of her was a sheet of white paper which she prepared to read from, and the television cameras.
CS Martin spoke: ‘Following the results of forensic testing today a woman has been arrested in relation to the murder of James Tulloch in his Ayrshire home. A report has been sent to the procurator fiscal detailing the evidence against Sandra Millar who is currently remanded in custody.’
‘Am I hearing right? We’ve put Sandra Millar on a murder charge.’
Martin continued reading from her script a little while longer but the words became meaningless to Valentine. When she finished she dismissed the cameras with a brief ‘no more questions’ and was ushered inside by a fawning Major Rutherford.