‘ Far from it,’ retorted Steven. ‘I agree with everything you say. I just want to take a look at the forensic evidence that wasn’t used in the trial so that I can be sure in my own mind about something.’
‘ What?’ Santini demanded. He then did a fair impression of a cat watching a bird without blinking, Steven thought.
‘Three of Julie Summers’ fingers were broken by her assailant during the struggle. I want to know what the lab found under her nails.’
‘ Maybe nothing,’ said Santini.
‘ If they were broken when she put up a struggle, as your own pathologist seemed to suggest at the time, there’s a good chance that something would have been recovered — skin, hair, blood, fibres?’
‘ The DNA evidence on its own was irrefutable,’ said Santini. ‘A one hundred percent match. There was no call for anything else.’
‘ I know,’ said Steven. ‘But I’d feel happier to see a piece of corroborating evidence. It would also prove beyond doubt that Hector Combe’s assertion that Julie Summers scratched his face was nonsense.’
‘ Of course it was nonsense,’ snapped Santini.
‘ Then corroborating evidence should make everyone happy,’ said Steven calmly.
‘ But it shouldn’t be necessary!’ exclaimed Santini. ‘What in God’s name don’t you accept about the evidence against David Little?’
‘ Nothing,’ replied Steven. ‘It seems irrefutable.’
‘ But you still want more?’
‘ I just want to take a look at the forensic samples taken at the time and then I’ll be on my way.’
Santini looked down at his desk top for so long that Steven wondered if he had a crystal ball installed in it. Eventually he said quietly, ‘That may not be possible.’
‘ I’m sorry?’ said Steven.
‘ There aren’t any samples,’ said Santini quietly. ‘Ronald Lee, the forensic pathologist at the time, screwed up. The samples were lost.’
‘ Lost?’ exclaimed Steven.
‘ Destroyed, incinerated, thrown out with the discards, something like that. I’m not sure of the exact details.’
‘ How long have you known this?’ asked Steven.
‘ Not long, I assure you. I called the head of the forensics lab when DI McClintock told me yesterday why you were here and he went into the lab last night to look out the samples. I just wanted to smooth the way so that you could see what you wanted to see and then be on your way without anyone getting wind of what you were up to. He called me just after eleven last night and broke the news.’
‘ But this suggests that the lab must have kept this a secret at the time,’ said Steven.
Santini nodded and said, ‘Presumably Superintendent Chisholm and Inspector Currie were told and they informed the Procurator Fiscal’s Office of the situation.’
‘ And then they all colluded in one great big cover-up,’ said Steven.
‘ It was a very difficult time for the force,’ began Santini. ‘The press were on our backs and the public were baying for an arrest. The investigating team had screwed up big time over the Mulvey boy and were being pilloried left, right and centre for perceived incompetence. I’m sure it was a case of the force simply not being able to afford another public scandal over a lab mix-up. It’s not as if anyone falsified evidence.’
‘ They just lost it,’ said Steven.
Santini swallowed and continued. ‘They did have a DNA match and it was perfect. The Fiscal obviously decided that a conviction could be obtained using that alone and he went ahead with the trial. He was proved right.’
Steven said quietly. ‘I take it that this is the real reason Ronald Lee got his marching orders with the others?’
Santini leaned forward and said, ‘Yes.’
Steven shook his head as he thought about it.
Santini said, ‘I’m asking you as a colleague to let sleeping dogs lie. Hector Combe could not have committed that crime. We got the right man. You know that.’
Steven nodded.
‘ Well?’
‘ Even if the samples were discarded, I presume they were logged at the scene of crime?’ said Steven.
‘ I suppose so.’
‘ I’d like to see the log.’
Santini took a deep breath as if trying to keep his equilibrium and exhaled slowly. ‘I’ll ask,’ he said. ‘Anything else?’
‘ I’d also like to see the medical officer’s report on David Little when he was arrested.’
‘ We should have that here. I’ll have to call the lab about the log. If they have it shall I ask it be sent over or will you want to go over yourself?’
‘ I’ll go over,’ said Steven.
‘ And then?’ asked Santini.
‘ If I don’t find anything untoward I’ll call it a day.’
‘ Good,’ said Santini. ‘The Julie Summers file can then go back to gathering dust and Hector Combe can continue to rot in hell.’
SIX
McClintock looked sheepish when Steven arrived back in his office. ‘I just found out myself a few minutes before you got here,’ he said. ‘What happens now?’
‘ Your governor is asking the lab if they still have the scene of crime log of the samples that Lee’s team took. If they have, I want to see it. I said I’d go over.’
‘ I’ll take you,’ said McClintock.
‘ I’ve also asked to see the medical officer’s report on Little when he was arrested.’
‘ He’s just put my sergeant on to that. Coffee while we wait?’
‘ Black, no sugar,’ said Steven.
McClintock left the office and returned a few moments later, holding two plastic cups by the rims with the tips of his fingers. ‘I couldn’t believe it when Santini told me about the samples this morning,’ he said to Steven as he handed him his coffee. ‘You must be thinking we’re a right bunch of hicks up here.’
‘ If there’s one thing I’ve learned over the years it’s that there’s no such thing as a completely efficient organisation and the bigger an outfit is, the less likely that becomes,’ said Steven. ‘Scratch the surface and you’ll find the flaws. ‘Doesn’t matter if it’s a hospital or a bank, the police force or the army, they’ve all got things to hide and usually plenty of staff only too willing to do the hiding.’
‘ A cynic after my own heart,’ said McClintock ruefully.
‘ Realist,’ said Steven.
‘ It’s still bloody embarrassing,’ said McClintock.
‘ It’s a damned good thing you got the DNA match.’
‘ Bloody right.’
McClintock’s sergeant knocked and came in carrying a cardboard file holder. ‘The chief super said to give you this,’ he said. ‘It’s the MO’s report on the prisoner, Little.’
Steven nodded his thanks as the phone started to ring. He heard McClintock say, ‘Right, we’re on our way.’
McClintock dropped the phone in its cradle and said to Steven, ‘Forensics have come up with the log.’
As they drove over to the lab, Steven asked, ‘Any idea what happened to your Doctor Lee when he left?’
‘ Last I heard was that he and his wife had sold up and bought a cottage somewhere up on Speyside. Makes perfect sense I suppose,’ said McClintock.
‘ How so?’
‘ It’s distillery country,’ replied McClintock.
‘ And the others?’
‘ George Chisholm moved to the south of Spain; spends his time playing golf with former clients I shouldn’t wonder. Bill Currie became a security consultant with a big insurance company in Glasgow. Twice the pay for half the effort they tell me. I’ve no idea what happened to Hutton. Why?’
‘ Just wondered,’ said Steven.
They arrived at the lab and McClintock showed his warrant card when asked to do so. Steven did the same.
‘ Dr McDougal is expecting you,’ said the white-coated woman who had been detailed to escort them. Steven recognised the smell of medical labs the world over, a mixture of chemical solvents and air that had been heated by Bunsen burners, the ever-present hint of something vaguely unpleasant in the air but not enough to permit precise identification. He looked through the glass windows on one side of the corridor as they moved along and counted half a dozen white-coated workers sitting on stools at lab benches. It made him wonder about perception and reality. Forensic science was perceived by the public as being a glamorous occupation. The reality was analysing vomit and poking about in other people’s dirty underwear. What did the workers see, he wondered, the glamour or the reality? He noted three high quality Leitz microscopes, a couple of Perkin Elmer spectrophotometers and a wide range of Hybaid DNA sequencing apparatus: the lab was well equipped.