‘We’ve been screwed, Sylvia,’ said Valentine. ‘Bloody seriously screwed, and by our own side, too.’
42
As Valentine and McCormack arrived at King Street station the television staff were packing cameras into vans, winding up cables and collapsing tripods. Newspaper reporters called in their stories by phone whilst a few stray members of the public hovered about. It was an event for Ayr, if not one the town could be proud of.
Desk sergeant Jim Prentice looked up as Valentine entered the front foyer. ‘Christ almighty, Bob, leave it on its hinges, eh!’ he roared. ‘Why are you barging in here leaving Incredible Hulk shapes in the door?’
Before he had a chance to respond DS McCormack arrived with Kyle Brogan in handcuffs, she presented him at the front desk and asked Jim to book him in.
‘And what have you been up to this time, Brogan? Depriving toddlers of their lollipops again?’
‘It’s a stitch-up. I’ve done nowt.’
Valentine intervened, put an end to the speculation. ‘Accessary to robbery, for now. If he pisses me off any more you can up it to accessory to murder.’
Brogan shook his head and kicked at the counter, his temper rising with his imminent confinement. ‘You said you’d look after me.’
The desk sergeant spluttered a laugh. ‘I hope you got that in writing, Brogan. Bob’s got a tendency to let his mouth run away from him sometimes.’
‘No he’s right, Jim. I said I’d look after him, so will you put a cup of that dishwater we call tea in the cell with him.’
‘You bastard!’ yelled Brogan, but Valentine and McCormack had already moved off.
As the heavy fire door to the stairs clanged behind them Valentine imagined Jim cursing him once again, it was strange how proprietorial desk sergeants became towards the station, a form of institutionalisation no doubt. Days spent scribbling in a ledger and relaying the chief super’s demands to officers she was too lazy to contact herself was no way to spend your life.
Climbing the stairs, the DI was certain he was about to put his job on the line. So what might his next role be? It might not even be on the force. Right now, that appealed to him.
‘Slow down, sir,’ said McCormack. ‘You’ll be too out of puff to speak your mind at this rate.’
‘You’re kidding aren’t you? Dino’s office could be on the top of Ben Nevis, I’d still be spewing by the time I got there.’ He continued to pound the stairs, the slap of shoe-leather on the hard surface echoing loudly around him.
‘Think about your heart,’ yelled McCormack. ‘You’re not supposed to get overexcited.’
‘Over excited, she can count herself lucky if I don’t go off like a bloody Exocet missile.’
McCormack reached out and grabbed the detective by the hand. ‘Bob, please, I’m saying this for you, calm down.’
Valentine looked at his hand, held tight in McCormack’s, and jerked it away. It wasn’t that he didn’t want her to touch him, but that he was shocked by the sentiment, the obvious concern on show.
‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you,’ said McCormack.
‘It’s not that. I’m just more used to my warnings being shouted at me.’
‘Shouting isn’t going to solve anything.’
‘That sounds like something I’d say to you.’ He leaned against the wall and tugged at his tie, unbuttoned his collar. ‘Look at me, getting all worked up.’
‘You’re the one that also told me Dino doesn’t take confrontation well. I’m thinking about the case, too.’
‘I’m sorry, Sylvia, I know everyone’s put a lot of work in, it’s just that you and I both know Sandra Millar didn’t kill Tulloch.’
A brisk nod. ‘It suits Dino, though, helps her clean-up rate and keeps the army sweet, avoids a whole bunch of trouble.’
‘Ah, well …’
McCormack stepped back, steadied herself on the banister. ‘Oh, Christ, you haven’t told her about Phil and Ally’s informant, have you?’
‘I was going to do it today, after we’d seen Brogan. I didn’t bloody well expect her to call a press conference the moment I stepped out the office.’
She rolled her gaze to the ceiling. ‘Oh, God, it’s going to be worse than I thought.’
‘Don’t worry about it. Just keep my back, all right?’
‘I’ve always got your back.’
The DI proceeded to the chief super’s office, his jaw clenched tight. There was a burning sensation rising from his stomach into his chest, like he’d tried to swallow something bitter, impossible to digest. As he reached the door and eyed the brassy nameplate, he halted and drew breath. His breathing was heavy now, he tried to find a steady pattern but it was impossible.
‘Want me to knock?’ said McCormack.
Valentine shook his head, raised his fist to the door, however before he got a chance to knock he heard peals of laughter on the other side – it was enough to prompt him to grab the handle and enter unannounced.
‘Oh, hello, Bob.’ CS Martin managed to attain her most smarmy demeanour in only three words. She didn’t rise from behind her desk.
As Valentine gazed around the office he saw Major Rutherford sitting in front of Martin, a glass of something was perched on his knee, the ice inside rattled annoyingly. Eddy Harris sat nearby, looking a lot cockier than when Valentine had left him with a list of chores this morning. As the DI caught Harris’s glare he nodded and spoke, raised a glass. ‘Hello, Bob.’
Valentine withdrew his gaze but didn’t reply, instead he approached the chief super’s desk and leaned into her face. ‘Sorry to interrupt your wee soirée but I think we should have a talk, in private.’
Martin’s smile grew. ‘I’m presuming you caught the lunchtime news, Bob.’
‘You’ve made a very big mistake. Sandra Millar never killed anyone.’
‘That’s where you’re wrong, Bob, we have the forensic evidence.’ She reached for a blue folder on the edge of her desk. ‘Read it and weep.’
‘I don’t care what it says, she didn’t do it.’
Martin snatched back the folder, ‘Look, the boffins found blood and tissue beneath the knife’s handle, and some of it’s Tulloch’s. And they’ve successfully matched a partial print from the same handle to Sandra Millar, that sounds like a closed case to me, Bob.’
‘Some of it? Are you saying Sandra Millar’s isn’t the only DNA on there?’
‘It’s enough to convict.’
‘Well, maybe that’s so, but I have specific evidence tying Tulloch to another suspect and testimony of police malpractice that I’d really like to raise with you in private, now, if you please.’
Martin’s face changed shape, the smile slipped away. She peered over Valentine’s shoulder towards DS McCormack. ‘Are you in on this, Sylvia?’
‘Yes, I am.’
‘I had you down for a smart lassie as well,’ said Martin. ‘That doesn’t require a reply … And neither does your statement, Bob. Now, what exactly are you on about?’
Valentine pushed himself off the desk and addressed the others in the room too. ‘If that’s the way you want it then fine by me. It’s probably better these two hear what I’ve learnt about them face to face anyway.’
Rutherford spoke: ‘What’s he saying?’
‘Oh, come on, Tom,’ said Valentine. ‘You didn’t really think that I wouldn’t find out about Tulloch and Finnie’s discharge in such shady circumstances …’
Rutherford leaned forward, placed his glass on the desk but didn’t speak.
Valentine turned to Martin. ‘Alleged rape and murder of a civilian whilst on tour in Helmand Province, Afghanistan.’
‘Not proven, I hasten to add,’ said Rutherford.
‘But presumably proven beyond the reasonable doubts of the regiment’s top brass who punted them onto civvie street in a flash.’
CS Martin interrupted, ‘What’s all this about, Tom?’
‘It’s nothing, a silly coincidence.’
‘It’s no coincidence that Finnie registered complaints with us about Tulloch’s stalking. Followed him around like a man with a grudge, even took a job in the same nightclub and picked a fight with him.’ Valentine was enjoying watching Rutherford’s reaction.