‘No proceedings were taken, sir.’ The response was mumbled.
‘None were,’ said McIlhenney, ‘but only because the divisional commander whose name you don’t even know wrote a letter of apology to the kid’s parents. . lucky for you they weren’t lawyers themselves. . blaming your recklessness on the stress that beat officers suffer on the job.’
‘I didn’t know that, sir.’
‘No, you thought you’d got off with a telling-off from Inspector Varley, and that’s all you cared about. You probably thought that the transfer to South Queensferry was a bonus. It wasn’t. It was what they do with an officer whose attitude might lead to him picking on the wrong ned and getting a blade stuck in him. Have you ever done any firearms training, Weekes?’ The change of subject was so swift that the man blinked, and his mouth fell open.
‘Yes, sir,’ he said, when he had recovered himself. ‘Three years ago I applied for armed-response duty. I was tried out, but I didn’t get in.’
McIlhenney knew from the file that he had been a good shot, but had fallen short in the rigorous psychological assessment given to potential members of the armed unit.
Curiosity seemed to embolden Weekes. ‘Why do you ask, sir?’
‘Just wondering, that’s all.’
McGuire checked his watch. ‘Congratulations,’ he said. ‘You’ve just broken the record.’
‘What record, sir?’
‘You’ve been in this room for five minutes without asking what you’re here for. The previous best was four and a half. But you don’t need to ask, Theo, do you? You bloody know why you’re here.’
The man stuck his chest out, his first show of defiance. ‘No, sir. Sir, I’d like a Police Federation rep present.’
‘You’d what?’ McIlhenney exploded. ‘It’s not a Fed rep you need, it’s a lawyer. . but you’re not having one of them either, not yet at any rate. You’re here for questioning in a murder investigation, Weekes, not for backchatting a sergeant.’
‘A murder investigation?’ the constable exclaimed.
‘Sugar Dean. You were engaged to her, until you dumped her, two years ago. True?’
Weekes’s gaze dropped to the floor; he nodded.
‘Have you been locked in the bog for the last twenty-four hours, maybe missed the TV news, not seen a paper?’
‘No, sir.’
‘Did you have your eyes closed when you walked into your station this morning, past the poster with your ex’s face plastered all over it?’
‘No, sir.’
‘Then why have you failed in your duty as a police officer by not volunteering the fact of your relationship with a murder victim to the officers handling the inquiry into her death?’
Weekes’s shoulders quivered in what might have been a shrug. ‘Don’t know, sir.’
‘Look at us when you’re insulting us,’ McGuire ordered, ‘not at your feet.’
The command was obeyed. ‘I never insulted you, sir.’
‘Of course you did. You insulted our intelligence.’
‘Are you two picking on me because I’m black?’ the man exclaimed.
McGuire stared at him, in genuine astonishment. ‘Are we what? Constable, you’ve just insulted us again. We’re questioning you about what appears to us to be a serious failure on your part in your duty as a police officer. Your skin tone has nothing to do with it. You could be purple and it would make no difference to us. Is that understood?’
He nodded. ‘Yes, sir. I apologise.’
‘Fine, as long as we’re clear about that. Now, please answer Superintendent McIlhenney’s question.’
‘I never thought it was important, sir. That’s the truth.’
McGuire sighed. ‘He’s done it again, Neil, and you know how much I hate it when suspects take the piss.’
‘I hoped nobody would find out,’ Weekes blurted out. ‘Okay?’
‘Okay?’ McGuire gasped. ‘Of course it’s not fucking okay! Why did you want to keep your broken engagement to a murder victim a secret? How did you ever think you could? Did you not think that her parents would tell us about you?’
‘I hoped they’d forgotten about me by now.’
‘Oh, no, Weekes. From what the investigating officers tell me, John Dean is not going to forget you in a hurry. Come on; for the last time, why were you so shy about being engaged to Sugar? I promise you, you’re not leaving this room without telling us the truth.’
Weekes looked the chief superintendent in the eye, and became a believer. ‘I’m engaged again,’ he said tamely.
‘We know that. Her name’s Mae Grey and she’s a constable, stationed at Livingston. I don’t see your problem. Did you tell her you’re a virgin? Or were you worried that she might think you’re a bad bet, having chucked one fiancée already?’
‘I never chucked Sugar. She chucked me.’
‘Why did she let her parents think it was the other way around?’ asked McIlhenney.
‘I suppose she didnae want to tell them the truth.’
‘And what was that?’ McGuire asked impatiently.
‘We had problems.’
‘Christ, I feel like a fucking dentist here, drawing wisdom teeth. What sort of problems?’
‘Sexual problems.’
‘Elaborate,’ said McIlhenney, ‘or we really will start pulling your teeth out.’
‘I gave her a dose. The clap. Gonorrhoea. Ken?’
‘Yes, Weekes, we may be senior officers but we know what the clap is. But I’ve got a problem with that. There’s no record of it in her medical history.’
‘She didn’t go to her own doctor, so there wouldn’t be. She went to a clinic: we both did.’
‘Okay. This infection, where did you pick it up?’
‘Off a bird I was with.’
‘Name?’
‘Christ, sir, I dinnae ken.’
‘Casual sex, indeed. As in “Good morning and what’s your name again?” Were you on duty when this encounter took place?’
‘Do I have to answer that?’ The constable looked at McIlhenney hopefully.
‘Oh, do you ever!’ the superintendent told him.
He nodded.
‘Say it!’
‘Yes, sir, I was on duty.’
‘So who was the woman?’
‘Inspector Varley’s wife.’
‘Aw, Jesus.’ McGuire groaned. ‘If you think you’ll get us to back off by telling us a story like that. .’
‘It’s true, sir, honest. I had to pick the inspector up from home once. I thought she gave me the eye then, but I wasn’t sure. Then a week later I was on patrol in the shopping centre in Livingston and I saw her with a load of parcels. She said that he had the car so I ran her home, tae save her the taxi fare, ken. Ah’d no sooner dumped her bags in the kitchen than she grabbed me by the ba’s.’
‘Did you threaten to charge her with assault, as you should have?’ the head of CID asked.
‘No.’
‘You gave her one on the kitchen table instead?’
‘Well, it was upstairs, but aye.’
‘And you’re sure that Mrs Varley was the source of your later infection?’
‘It couldn’t have been anybody else.’
‘Did it ever occur to you that Sugar might have given it to you rather than the other way around?’
‘No, Sugar wasn’t like that. Besides,’ he added, ‘I had the symptoms before Sugar and I actually did the business ourselves.’
‘You incredible bastard.’ McGuire sighed.
‘I never kent what it was, though. At that stage it was a bit sore when I had a pish, that’s all. It was after that the discharge started.’
McIlhenney leaned forward. ‘How much of the truth did you tell Sugar?’
‘All of it.’
‘So she knew that Inspector Varley’s wife puts it about?’
‘I told her that. I said I couldnae help it. I said I was feart she’d tell him it was me that made the move. It did no good, though. She broke it off.’
‘I’ll tell you something now, Weekes,’ said the superintendent, sincerely. ‘If I ever find a bloke like you around my daughter, I’ll fucking rip it off.’